


HRH The Princess Peggy

by lillianmmalter



Series: HM Queen Peggy [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Romance, Royalty AU, Various Historical Figures Used Fictitiously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianmmalter/pseuds/lillianmmalter
Summary: Being heir to the throne is not all it’s cracked up to be.In which I flagrantly kill off actual people in the House of Windsor to eventually make a fictional character who is canonically middle class the Queen of England. Nobody ever said fiction had to make sense.





	1. In which Peggy’s cover is blown

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck’s sake, this was supposed to be a fluffy royal romance. What have I done?
> 
> Thanks to Ellix and [Paeonia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for beta services and to [irisdouglasasiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana) for the idea behind the opening of this chapter. 
> 
> My current plan is to post new chapters on the first Tuesday of every month. We'll see if I can stick to that.
> 
> If you notice something wonky about my depiction of royal life/etiquette, please let me know. I’m doing my best to research it, but it’s fiddly as hell and I’ve no Britpicker/Royaltypicker. The things we do for fanfiction...

 

“Oh, damn!”

Peggy held the now half empty coffee cup away from her and looked in dismay between the wet papers on the desk and her ruined blouse.

“Shoot, Peg. No, here, let me.” Daniel levered himself out of his chair and took the mug away from her, setting it on a dry part of the desk before whipping out his handkerchief and blotting at her blouse. Peggy raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

“You just want an excuse to to paw at me.”

He met her eye with a smirk of his own. “Trust me, I don’t need you to spill coffee down your front to get my hands on you. Pretty sure that was the plan for later tonight anyway.”

“Was it?”

“Well, see, I heard about this dress you’re wearing. Sounds like an invitation for at least a kiss.”

“Is that so?” Peggy reached up to play with one of the buttons on his shirt, unable to stop grinning at him even as the damp crepe of her blouse started to cool uncomfortably against her skin.

“Mm. Red satin with a neckline down to here.” His fingers grazed lightly along her decolletage, making her shiver. “How could a guy resist?”

“How indeed. It sounds like the sort of thing I might wear to a party,” Peggy said.

“Only party I’ve been looking forward to for a while.”

“Jesus,” Jack said from the doorway. “And here I thought you two getting engaged would mean less flirting at the office, not more.”

Peggy straightened up and shot him a displeased look that only made his grin widen.

“You could go back to New York,” she said.

“And miss out on watching you tear your hair out over this new organization we’re building? Pull the other one, Marge.”

“I’m fairly certain your legs are long enough already.”

One of Daniel’s greener agents knocked on the doorframe, leaning in nervously. “Uh, Agent Carter, there’s a call for you on your desk phone.”

She blinked at him, then straightened her posture. “Of course.” She snatched Daniel’s handkerchief out of his hand with grin and walked out of his office to answer it, dabbing uselessly at her front as she went. She assumed it would be another agent she’d sent out to track down a lead, but it was Jarvis.

“Miss Carter, there are two men here asking to speak to you, and I must admit I’m rather flummoxed as to what to do.”

“What do you mean? Do they seem dangerous?” Peggy asked, already calculating which weapons to bring and how to direct Daniel and Jack to cover her in order to best deal with the potential threat.

“No, not at all,” Jarvis said quickly.

“Oh.” Peggy’s shoulders dropped, the excited tension building in her gut twisting itself into an impotent knot. “What’s the problem then?”

“One of them claims to be the Lord Chamberlain, and the other Assistant Private Secretary to the King. Of the United Kingdom.”

Peggy felt a lurch as the universe reorganized itself around her.

No. Not here, not now.

“Do they?” she asked, dreading the confirmation.

“Yes, though I can’t imagine what either of them would be doing here if they are who they say they are. They’ve got jolly good accents if they’re faking.”

“I see.” Daniel kept glancing at her through his window, and now Jack was at his shoulder watching her too, no doubt saying something inappropriate if Daniel’s glare at him was anything to go by.

“Should I tell them to leave?” Jarvis asked.

Ha. That would go over well.

“No. No, offer them something to drink and I’ll be there directly. I’m sure it’s some sort of mix up.”

“Of course, Miss Carter. Should I keep an eye on them until you arrive?”

“No more than you usually would. I don’t expect they’re here to cause trouble if they are who they say they are.” At least, not of the sort she and Jarvis were used to dealing with together. She thought for a moment, then added. “Keep Howard away from them, if at all possible. I’d rather not start an international incident.”

“Mr. Stark is currently entertaining a potential investor in Pasadena.”

Peggy allowed herself a wry smile. “And here I never thought I’d be grateful for his philandering.”

She practically heard Jarvis smother a smile.

“Oh, could you have Ana lay out another blouse for me to change into when I get there? Something conservative. The white one with the pearl buttons should do nicely. I’m afraid I’ve ruined this one.”

There was the briefest of pauses before he spoke again, and Peggy assumed if she could see him Jarvis would look half exasperated and half delighted, no doubt coming to all sorts of wrong conclusions as to how she’d ruined her current blouse. “Of course, Miss Carter.”

 

~*~

 

“So, have you two picked out names for your half a dozen kids yet, or were you waiting until you knocked her up to have that conversation?” Jack asked Daniel, grinning madly.

Daniel shook his head. “We haven’t even started planning the wedding yet, and you’re asking about baby names?”

“Oh, like you haven’t been planning everything out since the minute you laid eyes on her,” Jack said, smacking Daniel’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “I know your type, Sousa. You’ll want a big white wedding and the whole shebang. And nine months later you’ll have a pale yellow baby’s room all ready for the next generation of bullheaded do-gooders.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, forcing himself not to rise to the bait. “Sounds like you’ve given this a hell of a lot more thought than either of us have,” he said. “There something you want to tell me, Jack?”

“You really expect me to believe you of all people don’t have plans in place already?”

“Actually, we were throwing around the idea of heading to the city clerk’s office one afternoon and just getting it over with,” Daniel said with a shrug. Jack gave him an unimpressed glare.

“More than two years of you two pining after each other and you’re going to the city clerk’s office? No. No, absolutely not. I’m pulling rank.”

“You don’t outrank me anymore.”

“I don’t care. You two are having a proper wedding if I have to drag you both to the altar myself.”

“You planning to invite yourself along on the honeymoon too? I know Peg’s a modern woman, but I’m not sure either of us are as modern as that.”

Jack blinked at him and then blushed, a faint pink tinge spreading over his face as he caught Daniel’s meaning.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sousa,” he said, not quite meeting Daniel’s eye.

Huh. Daniel had had his suspicions about Jack, but he’d never expected them to actually be confirmed like this. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I’m trying to get you to name your first son after me,” Jack continued with barely a pause.

“Not going to happen.”

“Seriously? I’m the reason you two idiots are together in the first place.”

Daniel stared at him, mouth agape. “ _You’re_ the reason we’re together?”

“If I’d left it up to you two you’d still be pining for each other from opposite sides of the country. And let me tell you, pining is not a natural look on Marge. She was giving me hives. Took you long enough to give me an excuse to send her out here for you.”

“I didn’t-” Daniel cut himself off and shook his head, opting to look out the window again instead. Out in the bullpen, Peggy finished her call, her shoulders set in a way that only ever meant trouble.

“That was Mr. Jarvis,” she said when she rejoined them. “There’s a personal issue I have to take care of back at Howard’s; I’m afraid I need to leave early.”

“Everything okay?” Daniel asked.

She smiled, her mouth looking a bit pinched. “Perfectly fine.” He eyed her, looking for more clues as to what was going on, but came up blank. She laid a hand on his arm and her smile turned genuine. “Really, Daniel, it’s nothing. Just an annoyance. I’ll see you later tonight, all right?”

He nodded and she left again with a gentle squeeze to his arm, collecting her things in her usual brisk way and disappearing down the stairs almost before he could blink.

“You think she’s actually got some sort of personal business, or is she running her own investigation again?” Jack asked, staring at the place she disappeared just like Daniel was.

He sighed. “No clue. At least if she’s keeping quiet about a case I know it’s because she wants me to have plausible deniability about whatever it is she’s doing.”

“She still do that?”

“I didn’t think so.”

“But it’s Carter.”

“Yeah.”

“We going after her?”

“Figured I’d give her half an hour head start then see if she needs any help.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack said, then clapped Daniel on the shoulder and disappeared to wherever he went when he chose to bother Peggy and Daniel instead of running his own office.

Daniel sighed and went back to work, using a couple of spare handkerchiefs he kept in his office to mop up some of the mess Peggy made on his desk earlier and hoping the coffee stains hadn’t ruined any notes they had which might be relevant. Something told him their lives were about to get a lot more complicated, and he wanted everything in order for when it happened.

He was engaged to Peggy after all. Complications were inevitable.

 

~*~

 

There was a line of trucks and vans belonging to all sorts of tradesmen blocking Peggy’s access to Howard’s driveway, including vans from three separate florists.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Howard. How big are you expecting this party to be?” Peggy muttered to herself as she switched off the ignition.

She slammed the car door and marched up to the house’s main entrance, but slowed as she spotted a black Rolls-Royce amongst the crush, the Union Jack flying above each of its headlights, its driver calmly reading a British magazine.

Her stomach lurched again.

With a deep, steadying breath, Peggy squared her shoulders and entered the house, bee-lining for her bedroom and the fresh blouse waiting for her there. Jarvis hovered outside her door, a subtly defensive air about him she hadn’t seen since the Leviathan case two years before. On a day he was meant to be overseeing the last details of her engagement party he should have been radiant with efficiency and organization.

“Are you all right?” she asked him, adjusting the way the pearl buttons fastened her cuffs around her wrists.

“Perfectly,” he said, turning toward her as they walked down the hall. “The preparations for this evening’s celebration are going splendidly.”

“They’re a little over the top.”

“Not at all. A union such as yours and Chief Sousa’s is to be celebrated with the utmost flair. I wouldn’t allow for anything less than the best.”

Peggy smiled at the sentiment, but there was still a tightness in Jarvis’s face.

“Are you certain you’re well?”

“Of course. Everything is in order. Even the aspic is proceeding beautifully.”

She eyed him, but didn’t challenge his avoidance of her questions any further. He was no more a fan of the British establishment than she was. No doubt her unexpected and unwanted guests were making him nervous for Ana’s sake as well as his own, even if they weren’t here for him. Peggy resolved to do whatever she needed to protect them. She had the power to do that much no matter what awaited her down the hall.

Peggy shook off her musings and followed Jarvis into Howard’s living room.

The two mustachioed men waiting for her seemed vaguely familiar, but it had been years since Peggy had seen anyone of their class; she’d been practically a child then. As far as she was concerned, they could be almost anybody.

“Miss Carter, the Earl of Clarendon and Sir Adeane,” Jarvis said.

“Your Lordship. Sir,” she greeted coolly.

“Your Royal Highness,” the men greeted her, both of them bowing from the neck. Jarvis shot her a surprised look as he exited the room, and Peggy swallowed down her distaste. She dreaded having to explain herself to him once whatever this was was all over.

“It’s Lady Margaret, actually,” she said. The men exchanged a look that set Peggy’s teeth on edge. She did her best to ignore it.

“We’ve been looking for you for some time, Ma’am,” Clarendon said, a hint of reproach in his voice.

“I’m sure you have.”

“This is not a game. Your country needs you.”

“I served my country to the best of my abilities during the war, and now that it’s over I’m still working in Britain’s interests, albeit from a slightly more removed position than I’m sure the Royal Household would prefer. But America is a rising power and ought not to be ignored. So, here I am.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Princess Margaret has passed away,” Adeane said.

Peggy blinked, off put by the non sequitur. “Yes, I read about it in the papers a week ago. It sounds dreadful. The poor King and Queen must be inconsolable losing her to a car accident like that after the way Princess Elizabeth died during the war.”

“Quite.”

“I did send a letter of condolence,” Peggy said. She’d had to take a day off work and drive to Mexico to send it, a completely wasted attempt at misdirection judging by these two gentlemen’s presence before her now. “Though I suppose it might not have arrived yet.”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Ma’am,” Clarendon said.

Peggy kept looking between them for some clue as to the reason behind their visit, but they were better than Dottie Underwood at concealing their motives.

“Ma’am,” Adeane said, “I’m sure you know that with His Majesty’s daughters both gone the position of direct heir to the throne moves on to the next living heir.”

“Yes, of course.”

Peggy still had no idea why these men were here informing her of this, but a sick wrenching feeling was beginning to make itself known in her stomach and was becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

“That duty falls to you now, Ma’am,” Clarendon said.

Her stomach stopped wrenching and fell to her feet.

“I’m sorry. What?” she said. The sound of her own voice was like a distant echo in a cave.

“You are now the direct heir to the throne, Ma’am,” Adeane said. “I have with me letters patent declaring your new role and styling you Royal Highness from this point on.”

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. There were too many people ahead of her, too many cousins who were closer relations to the king.

“What about Henry?”

“The Duke of Gloucester died in a boating accident with his sons more than a year ago, Ma’am.” Her heart twisted at the news. The boys weren’t even out of short trousers yet.

“Edward?”

“Hunting accident, Ma’am.”

“Hunting accident? Shouldn’t he have been in school?”

“He had just started at Eton, Ma’am, but it was a school holiday and, well.”

“What about his brother and Alexandra?”

“Prince Michael died of Pneumonia two years ago, Ma’am, just before his fifth birthday.”

“And the princess fell from her horse and never recovered.”

Peggy’s heart twisted even more. Poor Marina. Poor them. Why had no one told her? Were they all so distracted by the end of the war that they forgot she wasn’t in England? It wasn't like her parents were around anymore to keep her up to date with these things.

“What about-”

“All dead, Ma’am, I assure you. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Peggy stared at them, mouth agape. Someone had to be playing some elaborate joke on her. More than two dozen people dead, all of them royal, in accident after accident in just the handful of years since she left England.

“What is this, some sort of macabre farce played for laughs? How is this possible?”

“The line of succession-”

“I was twenty-something in line! Nearly thirty! I was never supposed to get within spitting distance of the throne!”

Both men looked personally offended by her admittedly vulgar turn of phrase. A jolt of pride swept through her at that, even as the rest of her was still horrified by what they were telling her.

“The fact of the matter stands, however, that you are now the next in the line of succession,” Clarendon said.

Peggy sank down on the sofa and stared into the distance.

The next in line.

Her.

When the King died, she would be Queen. Not a leader in the new security organization she was currently helping to build, had been working toward for months now, but Queen of the United Kingdom and Empress to her country’s still sizable colonial interests.

For a brief, desperate moment, Peggy hoped for a way out, for someone else to take on the responsibility before her, but the next in line after her were her cousins, Brian and Aubrey, and with their politics during the war she might as well concede the crown back to the Duke of Windsor, which was simply not an option.

Bile rose in her throat and she had to struggle not to give in to the urge to be sick.

She thought she’d escaped this life. She and her brother had both taken on their mother’s family name during the war so as not to draw attention to themselves, and it had worked for nearly a decade. No one in her current life knew who she had been born, and that’s precisely the way she wanted it. It was part of the reason she was now living in America. But now they would have to know. Everyone would know.

Peggy concentrated on her breathing so she wouldn’t hyperventilate.

What would Daniel-

Oh God.

Daniel.

“I feel I should inform you,” she said, her voice shaking more than she’d like, “that I’m engaged to be married.”

The men exchanged an alarmed look between them.

“Engaged, Ma’am?” Adeane said.

“Yes. To an American.”

The men looked at each other again, some silent conversation Peggy didn’t have the energy to care about passing between them in a few moments. She knew what was coming, after all.

“Well,” Adeane said, looking unsettled, “if the King approves the match your intended would have to revoke his American citizenship and become a citizen of Great Britain. Though it is most irregular.”

“If the King approves,” Clarendon said. “It’s frowned on for the heir to the throne to marry a commoner, and as an American he could hardly be anything but.”

Peggy closed her eyes, then squeezed them shut tighter to hold back her tears.

“He’s also Catholic,” she said.

There was a deep, disapproving silence. When Peggy opened her eyes again, Clarendon looked as though he were sucking on a lemon and Adeane had a positively panicked look in his eye.

“That. Will prove problematic,” Clarendon said eventually.

“Yes,” Peggy agreed, “I know.”

She hadn’t thought it would matter before they showed up on her doorstep, unannounced and unwanted. So Daniel was Catholic, so what? The King would never give his permission for her to marry him, but she hadn’t planned on asking his permission anyway, Royal Marriages Act be damned. It wasn’t like any children they had needed to be legally recognized in her home country as she planned on raising them here. Or at least it hadn’t mattered when she still thought the crown would never touch her head.

What was she going to do? She couldn’t give Daniel up, she simply couldn’t. He was everything she hoped for for her future, everything she wanted. He kept her balanced, supported her, encouraged her; she was sure she’d fail horribly without him by her side. Assuming of course he still wanted her after he learned the truth, after he learned what even the glimmer of possibility of their staying together would cost him.

What was she going to do?

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve no idea who the Royal Household would actually send in a case such as Peggy’s, so I picked a couple of people who seemed halfway plausible (one high ranking, the other somewhat less so) and used them.
> 
> The Lord Chamberlain is sort of like the CEO of the Royal Household. Usually a peer, he manages the various departments which support and advise the Sovereign, and acts as a liaison between the Sovereign and the House of Lords. Until 1967, he had the ability to censor theater. His office is in charge of organizing ceremonial events such as state visits, weddings, funerals, etc. He is also a member of the Privy Council, the formal body of advisors to the Sovereign. In the late 1940s, the position was held by the Earl of Clarendon, a conservative politician and former colonial administrator in South Africa.
> 
> The Assistant Private Secretary to the King (or Sovereign) is just what it sounds like. They are the assistant of the Private Secretary to the Sovereign and step in when the Private Secretary is busy elsewhere. The Private Secretary is the main link between the Sovereign and their government, and acts as the Sovereign’s chief political advisor. The Private Secretary and the Sovereign see each other every day; the Private Secretary accompanies the Sovereign on all Royal tours as their official eyes and ears. All government papers are routed through the Private Secretary, as is the Sovereign’s official correspondence. The Private Secretary also deals with the Press Office, among other things. Sir Adeane was the Assistant Private Secretary to the King in the late 1940s and early 1950s, until he succeeded Sir Alan Lascelles as Private Secretary in 1953. 
> 
> Princess Margaret was the current Queen’s younger sister who, in real life, died of a stroke after years of poor health due to heavy smoking and drinking. In this universe, I killed Elizabeth off as a teenager during the war (the army jeep she was driving struck an unexploded bomb no one found in time), and Margaret at age 17 in a car crash. Elizabeth and Margaret were King George VI’s only children.
> 
> Marina is Marina of Greece, wife of George Duke of Kent, who died in a plane crash during the war. Their children are as mentioned above, though none of them actually died in childhood.
> 
> Brian and Aubrey refer to characters in the larger Marvel universe, whom I’ve put in the line of succession for my own purposes.
> 
> The Duke of Windsor, formerly known as King Edward VIII before he abdicated the throne to marry the unpopular Wallis Simpson, was a Nazi sympathizer (possibly due to Wallis’s influence) whose personality was completely unsuited to being king in the first place. His family called him David.


	2. In which Daniel finds out the truth and nobody is pleased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge announced they're having another baby! Unfortunately, Peggy and Daniel are nowhere near that point. In fact, poor Daniel has no idea what he's about to get himself into...
> 
> Thanks again to Ellix and [Paeonia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for beta services.

Jack pounded on Stark’s front door with his brisk agent’s knock. Daniel had a flash of memory of the two of them standing like this outside the front door of one of Stark’s other houses, made all the clearer when Jarvis answered the door obviously flustered and trying to hide it behind a cool layer of professionalism.

“Everything okay, Jarvis?” Daniel asked as they were ushered inside.

“Perfectly, Chief Sousa, though I feel I should warn you that Her- erm, Miss Carter has some important, if rather unexpected, guests.”

Jarvis’s eyes flicked down to Daniel’s Hawaiian shirt and back up again. Daniel had no idea why, it wasn’t as though he was dressed for the party tonight yet; even he had enough sartorial pride to dress up for that.

“Important how?” Jack asked, zeroing in on the reason they were there in the first place. “Embassy important? That why there’s a diplomatic Rolls outside?”

“Er. Well.” Jarvis was hiding something, something to do with Peggy. He always got twitchy like this when he was hiding something to do with Peggy. Fortunately for his sake, Peggy herself came to his rescue.

“Mr. Jarvis, who was that at the door?”

She was wearing an oddly conservative blouse with pearl buttons, the sort of thing Daniel was used to seeing on uptight schoolteachers and spinsters in movies. Before now, he wasn’t even aware Peggy owned such a thing. He found himself missing the triangle of skin just below her throat.

“Chief Sousa and Chief Thompson, Y- Miss Carter.”

Peggy shot Jarvis a displeased look, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked over to Daniel and smoothed down the placket of his shirt, almost as if she was looking for an excuse to touch him. Combined with the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes it was. Odd. And not a little unnerving.

“You want to tell us just what the hell’s going on here, Carter?” Jack asked, beating Daniel to the punch.

“Not particularly,” Peggy said to Daniel’s collarbone, her fingers toying with one of his shirt buttons in a discomforting repeat of their flirting in his office not even an hour earlier. He raised his right hand to cup her elbow, meaning the touch to comfort her, but she stilled, her shoulders stiffening even more. “But I will anyway.”

Except then she didn’t.

The silence stretched on. Daniel met Jack’s concerned gaze over Peggy’s head.

“Perhaps you might be more comfortable in the south parlor?” Jarvis suggested.

Peggy’s head came up.

“Yes, that would be ideal,” she said, pulling away and heading in that direction with a faux casual air Daniel had long learned to be suspicious of, even without her current odd behavior.

What the hell was going on that could rattle Peggy this badly? And why didn’t she want to tell him what it was? Nothing good ever came of Peggy keeping secrets from him, and he hated that she seemed to want to now.

How bad could whatever this was be?

“Daniel, Jack, there’s something I need to tell you,” Peggy said once the three of them entered the parlor, still not quite looking either of them in the eye. “Something I’ve been keeping from you since before we met.”

Daniel did his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

She did that thing with her mouth that she did when she was unsure Daniel would like something, that thing that looked like she wanted to bite her lip but wouldn’t because it would ruin her lipstick. The sinking feeling intensified.

“The thing is, I’m not really Peggy Carter.”

Daniel blinked, furrowing his brow.

Not Peggy Carter? But Daniel had seen her file going back into the war. That was a hell of a long time to pretend to be someone you weren’t. And he knew her. For all her skill at spycraft, Peggy was one of the most honest and forthright people he’d ever met.

“Peggy?” he asked.

Beside him, Jack wore a scowl filled with betrayal. “What the hell are you talking about, Carter?”

Peggy’s hands started twisting together, something Daniel didn’t think he’d ever seen her do before. His stomach sank even further. The dread of a thousand horrible ways to follow up her statement crept up on him as the seconds ticked by. He leaned more heavily on his crutch, preparing for the worst without having any clue what the worst might be.

She took a deep breath, then said, “Technically, Carter was my mother’s maiden name. My real name is Princess Margaret. Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret. In school I used the last name Windsor.”

Daniel stared at her, dimly aware Jack was doing the same.

“Royal Highness?” Jack asked. Daniel was glad he did, because he was still having trouble picking his jaw up off the floor.

“Technically, yes,” Peggy said. Her eyes flickered to Daniel’s face then moved away almost instantly and she did that thing with her mouth again. “I’m a great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria.”

What.

She was… What?

Jack started laughing. “Good one, Carter. You almost had me there for a second.”

“I’m not joking.”

She wasn’t. Good God, she wasn’t joking.

“What? You really expect us to believe that? Cause I gotta tell you, just cause you’re British and you walk around like you own the world doesn’t actually make you royalty.”

“No, it doesn’t, but the fact that I was born royal does.”

“Carter-”

“She’s not lying, Jack,” Daniel said. Jack’s mouth snapped shut and he looked at Daniel in shock. Daniel was watching Peggy, watching her eyes fill with pleading tears, though he couldn’t figure out what she was pleading with him for in the two seconds he caught her gaze before it skittered away again.

“I thought the King of England only had two daughters,” Jack said, sounding stunned.

“He did,” Peggy said. “Both of whom are now dead. As are a number of my other cousins who preceded me in the line of succession.”

Daniel’s heart started beating furiously at the implication behind her words.

“No,” Jack said slowly. “No way are you next in line for the British throne.”

“I’m having a bit of a difficult time believing it myself, to tell the truth. The last I checked I was twenty-something in line with plenty of male cousins preceding me.”

“The last time you checked? What, you’re in line for the throne and you didn’t know exactly?” Jack asked, incredulous.

“I stopped paying much attention when I was a child, as I was so far down the line that it was absurd I’d ever have to actually serve as Queen. My attention was better spent elsewhere.”

Bitterness twisted Daniel’s mouth, cutting through some of his shock. The absurd and the impossible really had it out for them. He wondered where all this left him, left them as a couple. Surely she was expected to marry some prince or duke now, somebody rich and well-bred and pre-approved by the Royal Household.

She’d never be able to do it. Peggy, bright, fiery, thoroughly alive Peggy could never be some demure lordling’s wife, royal blood or not. That’s why she broke her previous engagement in the first place.

Anxiety twisted in his stomach anyway. There was a chance it wouldn’t matter. Things worked differently over there, expectations were different. And Daniel knew he was hardly anybody’s idea of Prince Charming.

He couldn’t lose her. After everything they’d gone through to get to where they were he couldn’t bear the thought of not having her in his life now. He’d proven to himself he could live without her if he had to, but he hadn’t been happy, not really. He’d been… comfortable. Working toward contentment. At one time that might have been enough for him, but now that he’d had a taste of adventure, of what being with Peggy every day was like, he was loath to lose it. She was… she was Peggy. He’d do anything he had to if only she let him stay by her side.

He caught her eye and finally managed to hold it for the first time since he got here. She must have liked whatever she saw in his face, because some of her usual confidence came back into the set of her shoulders.

“What do you need?” he asked, holding her gaze as long as she’d let him.

She huffed out a pained laugh. “Honestly? I’ve no idea. It’s not exactly a scenario I ever bothered to prepare myself for.”

“This is insane,” Jack said dimly, drawing their attention back to him. He had slumped into a chair and was staring incredulously at Peggy, who straightened her back under the scrutiny.

“I suppose you’d like some proof?” she said, eyebrow arched. Returning to her usual game of one-upmanship with Jack seemed to have brought the remaining spark back into her and she once again looked like the confident agent who could take on the world.

“What? Do you have the King stashed in your bedroom or something?”

“Jack,” Daniel chided.

“No, but I’ve the Lord Chamberlain and the Assistant Personal Secretary to the King waiting in the living room.”

Jack blinked. Daniel felt a strange swooping sensation in his stomach.

How the hell was any of this real?

“What, you couldn’t get the first Personal Secretary here?” Jack asked. His voice was audibly shocked; the snark fell flat.

“I expect he’s busy serving the King. I didn’t ask.”

Her fingers twisted together for a moment before she caught herself and dropped her hands back down to her sides.

Daniel took a deep breath, then asked, “So, do we get to meet these guys, or do you need us to clear out?”

Peggy met his gaze and smiled. It didn’t matter that it was a little wobbly at the edges.

“I suppose I should introduce you,” she said. “I’d rather hoped I’d never have to subject you to this part of my life.”

“Cause being royal is such a difficulty,” Jack said. Peggy glared at him, then rolled her eyes.

“Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

Daniel caught her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, though he wasn’t sure if it was more to comfort her or himself. When she squeezed back, his stomach flipped. She was still with him, even if this did feel like the beginning of her slipping away again. He threaded their fingers together just to hold on to her for a little while longer.

Jack joined them and Peggy led them down the hall to the living room. She dropped Daniel’s hand just before they entered the room; he tried not to read anything into it.

Peggy introduced them to the two men waiting there, and Daniel immediately felt a chill from them the second she called him her fiancé. They were perfectly polite, but that was all they were. Daniel thought he caught the Lord Chamberlain sneer at his shirt, but it happened so quickly before being replaced by that careful disinterest they both wore like a second skin, he might have imagined it.

Daniel was already prepared not to like these men simply because of the distress they’d brought Peggy, but now his dislike was personal.

He liked his Hawaiian shirts, dammit.

How dare they come here, the day of his and Peggy’s engagement party, and cast judgements about them, about Peggy’s life? Where the hell had they been when she needed them after the war? He knew Peggy had felt alone and abandoned after being discharged from the field. He’d seen it on her face for the better part of a year, had heard her hint about it in late night conversations while curled up in bed together. These people had abandoned her, and now they wanted her to drop everything to come to their aid. They wanted them to cancel their engagement party.

“You cannot go through with it,” the Lord Chamberlain said. “His Majesty has not yet given his permission for you to marry. Such a public display is entirely inadvisable at this time, Ma’am.”

Peggy’s right eyebrow twitched.

“Wait,” Jack said, his eyes flicking between the men and Peggy. “She has to get permission to marry? She’s a grown woman.”

Daniel was glad he left it there. He could see Jack restraining himself from making a quip about Peggy never asking permission for anything, let alone something so personal.

“She is also a member of the Royal Family,” Adeane said. “There are rules, precedents she must follow. We cannot risk a scandal at this time.”

Daniel stiffened. So did Peggy and Jack.

“A scandal,” Peggy said flatly.

Adeane at least had the grace to look somewhat abashed. “I understand that you had plans, Ma’am,” he said. Peggy’s eyebrow twitched again. “But we do need you in London as quickly as possible. The people need to begin to know who you are.”

Peggy paced, her mind clearly whirling, then abruptly stopped and faced the men straight on.

“We’ll discuss it further tomorrow,” Peggy said. “I will cancel the party tonight, as you requested, in deference to the King, but don’t think for a moment this means my engagement is off. I will fly out to London in a few days.”

Daniel forced himself not to smile. That was the Peggy he knew and loved.

“Your Royal Highness, I really must insist-”

“Is the King dying?” Peggy asked sharply. Both men stiffened in a way Daniel found highly suspicious. “Is he actively dying at this very moment?”

“No, Ma’am,” the Lord Chamberlain said. Peggy’s eyebrow twitched again. If things weren’t so serious, Daniel would be tempted to laugh.

“Then you can give me at least the next twenty-four hours to speak to my fiancé and inform my friends of my change in status. Presumably also to quit my job,” she said with a slight hitch in her voice, “as I assume I won’t be allowed to keep it.”

Jack inhaled sharply at that and cursed under his breath. Only a year ago he’d have been all too happy to have Peggy out of his hair for good. Amazing what being shot will do to a man.

Adeane looked displeased, but nodded. The Lord Chamberlain was all but glaring at Peggy, surely only holding back out of respect for her station. Daniel’s mistrust of both of them hardened to a crystalline loathing.

“Very well, Ma’am. Twenty-four hours,” he said.

They bowed to her and for the first time Daniel noted the regal tilt of Peggy’s chin as she watched them go. It still didn’t seem real. And yet Peggy was apparently a princess. Would someday become Queen.

His Peggy would be Queen.

Daniel blew out a breath, allowing his cheeks to puff out slightly with the action.

Their lives just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

 

~*~

 

Peggy set the phone down in its cradle and allowed the defeated sigh she’d been holding back all afternoon to finally leave her.

Colonel Phillips was not pleased, to say the least.

He’d threatened all kinds of things, including a call to the British ambassador, as though that would change anything. He’d then railed at her for being a liar and a time waster and an absolute idiot if she didn’t seize this opportunity by the reins and change world politics for the better. The emotional whiplash was exhausting.

This entire day had been exhausting. If Peggy were a lesser woman she’d have already collapsed into tears by now.

Everything she had worked years to build, every friend she had gathered around herself, every fledgling dream she had only just begun to cherish was about to be taken from her and replaced by a gilded cage of the most hideous proportions.

Daniel’s crutch clicked against the floor beside her. She turned to him and her breath caught in her chest.

Oh please, not everything.

She went to him and buried her face in his shoulder, memorizing the smell of him, the feel of his arms around her waist just in case.

Oh please, let that case never happen. Please, please, please.

Of everything she was losing, if she could just keep him she thought she could manage to bear it.

“Peggy.”

“I’m so sorry, Daniel.”

“Peg…”

“This was never supposed to happen. I was never supposed to be heir.”

“Peggy, we’ll figure it out. We’ll deal with it.”

“Daniel…”

“I’m in this with you to the end, Peggy. I don’t care if there’s a gun strapped to your thigh or a crown on your head, I’m with you.”

Her lower lip trembled. She pulled just far enough away to look at him, gripping at his jacket so hard her nails hurt.

“The end might be approaching faster than either of us would like.”

He leaned away from her, uncertainty and a hint of betrayal on his face. “What?”

“There are certain rules as to whom the Royal Family can marry.”

“And I’m American.”

“And a commoner, yes. That doesn’t help our case, though by itself it wouldn’t necessarily put a stop to our engagement.”

She hated his expression, the hurt that was in his eyes.

“So what’s the bigger problem? It’s not like I’m a Nazi sympathiser, I’m not divorced; the only things I have in common with Wallis Simpson are that we’re both American and we both have brown hair. What else could there be?”

Peggy pursed her lips. “You’re Catholic. Heirs to the throne can’t marry Catholics by law. If they do, the marriage is invalidated and any issue produced are considered illegitimate.”

“Issue.”

“Children.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he said evenly. Peggy looked at the ground. “The future Queen of the United Kingdom can’t exactly have bastard kids running around, can she?”

“No,” Peggy whispered.

Daniel cursed and pulled out of her arms to start pacing across the room, his crutch clicking angrily against the floor as he walked back and forth. The rhythmic sound felt like a metronome counting down her doom. Then, just as suddenly as he’d started, Daniel spun around and collapsed onto one of Howard’s couches to glare at the wall.

The pain of Peggy’s heart breaking nearly brought her to her knees. Why did this keep happening to her? Why did she lose every man she allowed herself to truly love? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_. What she wouldn’t give to be five years old again and living in a world where the word fair meant a damn thing at all.

“What if I converted?” Daniel asked quietly.

“What?”

“What if I converted? To the Church of England, or whatever it’s called.”

“Daniel…”

“If I wasn’t Catholic then they wouldn’t have as many objections, right? It’d actually be a good story to sell the people: a love so strong it overcame religion and national boundaries. That’s gotta help us, right?”

“The man who gave up everything to be with the future Queen?”

“Not everything. It’s still Christianity isn’t it? The core values are pretty much the same. It’s not like I go to Mass most of the time anyway.”

Even with the certainty she heard in his voice, there was still doubt lingering in his eyes. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying as much as he was trying to convince her.

Peggy took a bracing breath.

“I don’t just mean your religion, Darling. You’d have to quit your job, give up your American citizenship, your anonymity, lord knows what else. So yes, Daniel, you’d be giving up just about everything.” Daniel’s face darkened as she spoke. “And all that just for a chance for us to marry. Not a guarantee. I don’t know that I’m worth all of that.”

Daniel glared at her and launched himself off the couch toward her.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say you’re not worth all the stars in the damn sky.”

“Daniel-”

“What happened to knowing your value? To being the most talented agent the SSR has ever seen?”

“That’s Peggy Carter, not Princess Margaret.”

“I don’t see any difference at all.”

He cupped her face in gentle hands and forced her to look at him. She wanted to melt at his feet.

“Peggy, I am willing to die for you. In a heartbeat. But I’d much rather live for you.” The tears she’d been holding back all afternoon finally splashed down her face. He smoothed them away with his thumbs. “And I know how hard that’s gonna be. It was gonna be hard even without all this royalty stuff complicating everything. But it’s you. Peggy, you’re it for me. I can’t let you go without a fight. Not now, not ever again. I love you too damn much not to fight like hell to keep you.”

Peggy folded herself into his arms and sobbed. He held her tighter than he’d ever held her before, leaning into her just as much as she was leaning into him.

It was the one bright spot in a truly terrible afternoon.

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I can tell, technically Peggy wouldn't have used the last name Windsor at school, she'd have used whatever her dad's title was as her last name. So if, like the current prince, his title was the Duke of Cambridge, she'd have been Lady Margaret Cambridge. However, as her dad won't play much of a role in this story and the issue of Windsor as a last name eventually will, I'm sticking with Windsor.
> 
> Wallis Simpson was the American divorcee who was the catalyst for the Abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936. He wanted to marry her, and the British government would hear nothing of it. At the time the Church of England did not approve of divorced people remarrying while their former spouse was still alive, and she had been divorced twice. She was also a Nazi sympathizer, with some even suspecting her of being a German informant in the years leading up to the war. The Abdication and its consequences weighed heavily on the Royal Family of this era, not least because it propelled George VI (Queen Elizabeth II's father) to the throne and possibly contributed to his early death.
> 
> Since I didn't put it in my notes last chapter, the Royal Marriages Act of 1772 made it illegal for any member of the British royal family under the age of 25 to marry without the consent of the ruling monarch. Any member of the Royal Family over the age of 25 who is refused the sovereign's consent can marry one year after giving notice to the Privy Council of their intention to marry, unless both Houses of Parliament pass a resolution against the marriage in the interim.


	3. In which plans are made for the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix and to [Paeonia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for beta services.

Peggy’s eyes were puffy and red by the time they finally joined the others in the abandoned wreck that was the kitchen. She was clinging to Daniel’s right arm in a way that made it difficult for him to walk, but he wasn’t about to put any distance between them that he didn’t have to. He’d never seen her cry like that before.

Daniel thought he knew most of what made Peggy the woman he fell in love with, but this afternoon’s revelations had exposed more than just her heritage, they had laid bare a softer, more vulnerable side of Peggy than he’d known existed. Protectiveness swelled up in his chest stronger than he’d ever felt for her before. She’d yell at him if he tried to act on it, so instead he held her close as they maneuvered through the doorway together.

There were half done food preparations abandoned on the countertops and unspooled streamers lying limply on the ground. A crate, overflowing with flowers, was sitting by the door leading out to the terrace by the pool. Everyone was clustered around the kitchen table.

“You are certain?” Ana asked, her pale face angled toward Jarvis, who was standing behind her chair. It didn’t seem like the first time she’d asked the question.

“Yes, dear. Miss Cart- Her Royal Highness is a princess.”

“Not just a princess, she’s gonna be Queen someday,” Jack said, stabbing a fork into something in a cooking pot. “I still can’t wrap my head around that.”

“And that’s why they cancelled the party?” Rose asked. She looked unsettled in a way Daniel didn’t think he’d ever seen her. Definitely more unsettled than she’d sounded when he called her earlier to spread the news that the party was off. “They’re not breaking up?”

“No,” Daniel said with as much authority as he could manage. “We’re not breaking up.”

Peggy squeezed his hand at that. He brought their joined hands up to kiss the back of hers, just below her engagement ring. Her smile wobbled at the edges, but at least it was there.

“Didn’t seem like either of those bigwigs were fans of the idea of you two getting hitched, though,” Jack said.

“They wouldn’t be,” Peggy said, moving toward two unoccupied chairs. Daniel waited for her to sit before he sat down himself, leaning his crutch against the table between him and Jack. “No doubt the Abdication is still weighing heavily on their minds. And the war. I’m afraid you won’t have many people over there rooting for you, Darling. Not at first, anyway.”

“Why the hell not?” Jack asked, sounding offended as though Peggy were talking about him instead of Daniel. Daniel felt warmth curl through his stomach at that.

“Let’s just say there are tensions in Britain over how well America came out of the war when much of Britain itself is still in ruins,” Jarvis said.

“Not to mention how many British brides married American GIs instead of boys from home,” Peggy added, picking up a fork and twirling it in one hand.

“What, and that’s Danny boy’s fault?”

Daniel internally sighed at the name, but chose not to rise to the bait. Peggy’s thumb was playing over his under the table, rubbing back and forth over his skin. He focused on that instead.

“We already know we’re going to have to work the press to sell our relationship to the public,” Daniel said, “I don’t much care if they like me at first or not.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re a lousy liar, Sousa.”

“Wait,” Rose said. “Work the press? Chief, the newspapers’ll go nuts over this. It’ll be all over the the newsreels… Neither of you will be able to work undercover again.”

“I’m afraid my days as a spy are done for,” Peggy said. Her posture was proud, but there was a tremor in her voice. Daniel squeezed her hand.

“And I was never much good at undercover work anyway,” he said, nodding at his crutch.

“What are we going undercover for?” Stark asked from the doorway. “And where the hell is the party? I expected it to be in full swing by now.”

“We cancelled it. I’ve had some news from home,” Peggy said.

“Something to do with your cousin dying?” Stark asked, walking further into the room and popping a raspberry from on top of the half decorated cake into his mouth. “Shame. She was a pretty girl. I suppose it puts you further up the line of succession though.”

Everyone stared at him, silent.

“You knew?” Peggy asked, incredulity dripping from her voice.

“I suspected,” Stark said. “It’s not like it was hard to figure out or anything.”

Daniel and Jack both glared at him. Rose pursed her lips. Stark looked around the room in surprise.

“Wait. Really? Nobody else knew?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Peggy said.

“Not even the future Mr. Carter?”

Daniel stiffened at that while Peggy just glared.

“No. It wasn’t something I ever thought would matter.”

“Well that was a mistake,” Stark muttered, eyebrows raising and lowering in emphasis, making him look briefly like Groucho Marx.

Peggy dragged the cake in front of her and started eating it right off the stand, her fork stabbing into its side viciously. After a moment, Daniel picked up a fork and dug in too.

“Her Royal Highness is entitled to her privacy,” Ana said, then blinked. “Oh my. It is odd to call you that.”

“It’s odd to be called that,” Peggy said, mouth full of cake.

“You’re full of class, Marge,” Jack drawled.

“It sounds like she’s had a day. If she wants to eat cake, let her eat cake,” Rose said, a flinty look in her eye despite the pleasant smile still on her face. Daniel smirked as Jack wisely kept his mouth shut.

“It’s probably the last time I’ll be able to eat it like this,” Peggy said with a frown. Daniel dropped his hand under the table and gave Peggy’s knee a squeeze. It often made her relax, at least a little.

“What? Why?” Stark asked.

“Her Royal Highness is the new heir apparent to the throne of the United Kingdom,” Jarvis said.

Stark blinked. “Huh. Well, that’ll throw a wrench in our plans for SHIELD.”

“Only a little one,” Peggy said before taking an enormous bite.

“When are you leaving then?” Stark asked, taking the last chair and peering into one of the dishes scattered across the table. It looked like it held some kind of chicken.

“Tomorrow or the day after,” Daniel answered for Peggy, whose cheeks more closely resembled a chipmunk’s than her own. “Those palace guys seemed really anxious to get Peggy back to London as fast as they can.”

“Oh! So soon! Then I must finish your suit!” Ana exclaimed, standing.

Peggy audibly swallowed and distractedly rubbed at the corner of her mouth with her hand, completely missing the fleck of frosting that was there.

“What suit?” she asked.

“It was supposed to be part of your trousseau. Now it will merely be a gift. You can’t wear just anything getting off the plane, not with all the photographers who are sure to be there.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Nonsense. It only requires a few finishing touches. I’ll get it done tonight. It is the perfect travelling suit.”

“Ana, you really don’t-”

Ana held up a hand and an imperious eyebrow, cutting Peggy off.

“It would be an honor for you to wear one of my creations, Your Royal Highness.”

Peggy melted at that. Behind Ana, Jarvis was making an exaggerated pleading face, which quickly disappeared when Stark smirked at him.

“All right, if you’re certain it’s no bother,” Peggy finally relented.

“None at all,” Ana said, beaming, then left.

Daniel smiled as Peggy pouted, then took another large bite of cake. He had a feeling that if Peggy had her way she’d be eating a lot more cake in the coming months.

 

~*~

 

Ana was a far better friend than Peggy deserved. Her heart ached at the idea of not being able to see her anymore. Or Jarvis. Even if she wanted to steal them from Howard and they acquiesced to being stolen, they’d never willingly uproot themselves to move to England; Jarvis had burned that bridge for the pair of them years ago.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said “I’m still stuck on the two of you willingly throwing yourselves to the newsmen.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it willing,” Peggy said, stabbing aimlessly at the cake. “More like, inevitable.”

“You’re going to have to make it look like you’re willing,” Jack said. “It’s the only way to get them on your side, and you’re going to need them on your side.”

“Jack’s right,” Daniel said. “The second you get off the plane you’re going to have to play yourself up in the press. Interviews, photo shoots, whatever the Palace will let you get away with.”

Peggy stared at them, hating the very idea of it. “It’s undignified.”

“It’s necessary. If living in LA has taught me anything it’s that public image is important. And the British people don’t know who you are. They need to know you before they know me.”

“They’ve got a point, Peg,” Howard said in between bites of deviled chicken. “You can use this time to your advantage, but only if you play it smart. Most of us only get one chance to make a first impression; you’re going to be doing it globally.” He shook his head. “What I wouldn’t give for that kind of exposure.”

“I think you’ve exposed yourself enough,” Peggy said sharply. Howard smirked at her like it was a compliment.

Peggy turned her attention back to the cake in front of her, taking another large bite to give herself time to think.

They were right telling her to woo the press, it was the only way to get the people on her side, and she was going to need the people’s support if she was going to have a chance in hell of convincing the Palace to allow her Daniel. Well, that and behaving herself, which she’d never been particularly good at even when she tried. She’d just have to prove to them, to everyone, that she was up for the job.

There was no question that she would do her royal duty. Her irresponsible relatives and their suspect politics aside, Colonel Phillips had a point about the influence such a position would grant her, not for any selfish ambitions, but for the good she could potentially do. There was a chance she could do far more good for the world sitting on the throne than she ever could sitting behind a desk in a SHIELD bunker somewhere.

Lord, they didn’t even have a place picked out to be SHIELD’s headquarters yet. There was so much work still to do. And… that wasn’t something she needed to concern herself with anymore.

The realization made her heart sink.

She was losing her career, her sense of purpose, and for what? Sparkling jewels, an unending schedule of official visits and empty smiles? She wasn’t certain she would actually be any good at it, not in the way she was good at being a secret agent. Give her a gun and a wrong to right and she could hold her own against nearly any opponent, but give her a fancy frock and an entire crowd to please and she felt fifteen years old again, gangly and awkward with too big breasts and spots on her chin and nose.

Perhaps it would be best if she treated it like going deep undercover. That way she could have the illusion that she still had some agency left in her life. Her objective would be to charm the British people and gain the confidence of Parliament and the King, and to do that, she needed to start small. Wooing the press would be distasteful, but easy enough to do so long as she was careful with her language. It was much like flirting with a mark. Wooing Parliament… best to leave that for last. Politicians were changeable creatures. As for wooing the King, she would need to tread carefully. Maybe she could get to him through the people close to him.

She could try to court Queen Elizabeth, ask her advice for how to handle being a royal in the modern age. She too had been reluctant to be royal, once upon a time, and now the people seemed to love her. The King certainly relied on her greatly for moral support. She could be a good ally.

Although, she was no doubt mourning her daughters just as much as the King was, possibly more. Peggy’s mother had been a wreck when Michael died, and the Queen had now lost both her children in just three years. Peggy’s mind shied away from even contemplating it; it was too awful. She hoped the Queen wouldn’t hold their deaths against her.

Perhaps the King’s mother, Queen Mary, would be a better person to start with, though the idea made the thirteen year old inside her quake with nervousness. She remembered Queen Mary as an imposing figure the one time she met her, and none of her more recent accomplishments could quite blot that nervousness out.

“So what does all this mean for SHIELD?” Rose asked, pulling Peggy out of her thoughts. “If Peggy- I mean, Her Royal Highness,” she corrected herself with a glance at Jarvis, who nodded, “is going to be courting the press over in England, then that means we’re down an Assistant Director. And if Chief Sousa goes with her-”

“That’s not a good idea,” Howard cut her off.

Peggy glared at him. “And why not?”

“Oh, come on, Peg. You’re not stupid. If you show up at the Palace with an American fiancé in tow you’re going to have a hell of a fight on your hands. One I’m not sure even you can win. I had to work with enough of those blowhards during the war, I know how they think. You have to go at things sideways with them or you’ll never get anything done.”

Rage boiled in Peggy’s gut. At Howard, at the Palace, at this entire ridiculous situation. Her life was going fine before this. Better than fine, even. And now everything was crashing down around her.

“And what would you have me do instead?” she ground out.

“Go alone. Play the good little princess for a while, then after a few months loverboy can join you in London and you can introduce him to the King and whoever else you need to charm.”

Peggy stared at him for a moment, then rose from her chair and stormed out.

 

~*~

 

Daniel did his best not to show his dismay.

It made sense, of course. You caught more flies with honey and subterfuge than knocking down their metaphorical doors and making demands. Peggy had a whole new set of responsibilities now, and a whole new set of people to prove she could handle them to. It might be easier for her if he wasn’t there to distract her from that. Besides, he had responsibilities here in LA, he couldn’t just go haring off after Peggy to another country. They were engaged, not attached at the hip.

But the thought of Peggy alone in London, with no one there to support her, to keep her from flying off into who even knew what kind of situations, made his stomach twist and writhe. Even worse, the thought of not seeing her, of missing her for possibly months, felt like a sucker punch to the chest.

He stood and collected his crutch to follow her. No one stopped him.

Daniel checked the living room first, simply because it was closer. Then he checked her rooms, but found them empty too. A glance out one of her windows showed him where she was.

The thud of Peggy’s wrapped fists against the reinforced canvass of the heavy bag sounded disturbingly like artillery attacking from a distance. He watched her for awhile, unsure of what to say.

She grunted every other time her fists hit the bag. Uppercut. Jab. Jab. Rightcross. Hook. Jab. Hook. Knee. Her face was red with bottled up frustration. Her heels had been kicked off carelessly near the edge of the mat. Her schoolmarm blouse was unbuttoned at the neck, sweat beginning to make the delicate fabric stick to her back.

Daniel cocked his hips so he was balanced on his left leg and slid his arm out of his crutch to hold it loosely in front of him.

“You know, it’s going to take at least another three or four months to finish up our last cases and close out the office. I’d be a terrible boss if I left Rose to do it all herself.”

Peggy hit the bag harder.

“You agree with him?”

Daniel made a face and shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “Well, I don’t like it, but I can see his point.”

Peggy continued to hit the bag, silent but for her occasional grunts and heavy breathing. Daniel sighed.

“Peg, will you stop that and come talk to me?”

“What’s there to talk about? My life is already being decided by everyone but me, what more could I possibly have to add to the conversation?” She punctuated the end of the question with a particularly ruthless kick that would have sent a man to the ground.

“It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Do I? You’re telling me what I think now, too?”

“Dammit, Peggy, I’m not the bad guy here!” That finally got her to stop attacking the bag, but the defeated slump to her shoulders took on was almost worse. Daniel ran a hand through his hair and watched her unwind the tape from her hands before walking over to where she’d left her engagement ring on a nearby table. She looked at it for a few moments before putting it back on.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Daniel said quietly. “If I have to not see you for a few weeks or a few months to be able to have you for the rest of my life, I’ll do it. Stark has a point. Of all of us, he’s the one who knows the press best. Much as I hate to say it, we probably need to listen to him on this one.”

“And what will you do in my absence? Keep on as usual? Build up SHIELD?” She wasn’t looking at him, but her stiff posture felt attuned to him anyway.

“Got any better ideas?” he asked, shrugging. “I’ll need to do something to distract myself from missing you. I’ll probably miss you more than I miss my leg.”

Peggy huffed and rolled her eyes, but at least she was looking at him now. She studied him for a moment, then crossed the distance separating them and kissed him, hard.

He breathed into it and clutched at her waist, letting his crutch clatter to the ground beside them. He kissed her back just as desperately as she was kissing him, urging her to have faith in him, in the two of them together. He nipped at her full bottom lip and gentled the kiss until she sighed and leaned into him, careful of his precarious balance.

“Take me to bed,” she breathed when the kiss ended.

And there was nothing else for him to do.

 

~*~

 

Peggy panted and burrowed her nose into Daniel’s shoulder, relishing the smell of skin and sweat and sex that clung to him. She smoothed a hand up his chest, tangling her fingers in the sparse hair she found there.

She would remember this. Whether this was the last time they made love or only the last time before she started her new life, she swore to herself that she would remember this, remember him.

One of his hands came up to cup the back of her head while the other one petted the side of her naked hip.

“Not exactly how I imagined tonight going,” he said, his breath still coming quickly. “But at least we ended up where I hoped we would.”

Peggy hummed. Gooseflesh began to rise on her exposed skin. She shifted closer to him, pressing a sloppy kiss where her mouth met his body. His hand scrunched gently through her sweat-straightened hair and she wanted to cry again.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, shifting enough that she had to sit up or be knocked off him. “That’s not what you’re doing. You’re not leaving me. You’re just… going on ahead of me. Laying the groundwork for me to follow you.”

His face glowed in the dim lamplight, his eyes shone. She tried to tell herself it was with confidence in her, in them, but it was probably more due to the sex and the angle of his head on the pillow.

“Everything’s going to change,” she said softly.

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

No, it didn’t. The years since the war had meant a lot of changes for her, for the two of them, many of them for the better. But she couldn’t make herself believe that this would be one of them. It was such a big change, after all, made up of a hundred thousand little changes they couldn’t even see yet. And she was so afraid she’d lose him because of them.

“I want you to promise to think about it while I’m gone,” Peggy said, petting his chest. “Really think about it, what you said you’d do. About, about converting. Leaving everything. You should talk to people, ask questions. I don’t want you doing this for me only to have it turn to resentment, to hating me. I couldn’t stand you hating me.”

“Peggy-”

She sat up fully to look him in the eye. “Promise me, Daniel.”

He watched her, his brow furrowed and his mouth frowning. He smoothed his hands lightly up her hips then along her sides and back down again. She tried not to shiver.

“I promise, Peg.”

She gave him a wobbly smile, then bent down to kiss him. His hands went to her hair, palms cupping the sides of her face.

Though neither of them said it, the kiss tasted bitterly of goodbye.

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queen Elizabeth in this case refers to Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, King George VI’s wife and our Queen Elizabeth’s mother. She took on the title of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother after her daughter ascended the throne to avoid confusion. In the universe of this fic there will not be a need to avoid confusion, and so she will just be known as Queen Elizabeth.
> 
> Queen Mary was King George VI’s mother, who was known to be “cold and hard” and “above politics”. She was quite fond of collecting things, often expecting that a compliment on a host’s picture or vase would lead to that host donating the object to her collection. Although she was queen mother herself in the last years of her life, she never used the title.


	4. In which Peggy meets her cousin, the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Ellix and [Paeonia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia) for beta services. Peony is really saving my hide when it comes to the Catholic stuff in this. Thanks also to [Kar98k](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kar98k) for flight time estimation and to [keysburg](http://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg) for finding the link to the SOE Training Manual for me, which gave me the wording I needed to do other research.
> 
> A note on King George VI’s speech patterns: if you’ve seen the King’s Speech (which I highly recommend you do if you haven’t) you’ll know he suffered from a stutter and smoked almost continuously because of bad advice he was given early on to try to manage his stuttering. To quote Sir Harold Nicholson, writing about the King’s Victory broadcast at the end of the war, the King’s words were excellent, “but it is an agony to listen to him—like a typewriter that sticks at every third word.” 
> 
> George VI’s stutter mostly revealed itself in the way he pronounced certain words and pauses in odd places as he spoke, not the repeated consonants you often read/hear in media featuring stutterers. To try to capture this, I’ve used commas in places he might have had difficulties getting certain words out. As for his accent, you can listen to a number of his speeches on YouTube.

[Pathe Newsreel opens with footage of Buckingham Palace. Triumphant trumpets play over a title card proclaiming: “Changes for Britain’s Royal Family”.]

_Tragedy has once again struck Britain’s Royal Family._

[Cut to footage of crowds of mourners lining the streets of London.]

_With Princess Margaret’s untimely passing, the line of succession is once again in turmoil not seen since the Abdication._

[Cut to footage of Peggy, dressed in an impeccably fitted suit of blue wool, descending the stairs from a BOAC airliner and studiously ignoring the camera.]

_Enter the fashionable and glamourous Lady Margaret, King George VI’s second cousin through their great grandmother, Queen Victoria. Known to her friends as Peggy, Lady Margaret was recently styled Her Royal Highness to better suit her new role as heir. The people are already calling her “Princess Peggy”._

[Cut to footage of a 13 year old Peggy in a high waisted floofy dress talking to a much younger Princess Elizabeth wearing the same dress.]

_The new princess is no stranger to Royal duties, having served as flower girl for the wedding of Prince George to Princess Marina of Greece in November of 1934._

_Prince George’s death eight years later was the first of many royal deaths during the war years which have now thrust the new princess into a life she could hardly have imagined as a child._

[Cut to still photo of 19 year old Peggy in uniform.]

_During the war, Princess Margaret served in the Auxiliary Territorial Service before being handpicked by Churchill himself to be Britain’s representative in America, working to promote Britain’s interests to the Yanks across the Pond. It was there that Palace officials found her, still working tirelessly to promote peace against those who would threaten it._

[Cut to further footage of Peggy in her blue wool travelling suit.]

_And now Princess Margaret is home again, ready to take on her new responsibilities as heir. When asked her opinion of our allies across the sea, the princess confessed, “It’s a beautiful country full of wonderful people, but it’s good to be home.”_

 

~*~

 

King George VI was a tall, skinny man whose narrow shoulders seemed too frail for the weight of responsibility placed upon them. His face was careworn and deeply lined, his skin pallid and oddly rough in appearance. He looked ill.

Peggy noted all this in a moment’s glance, then dropped into a very correct curtsy, the hours of etiquette lessons her mother drilled into her head to prepare her for George and Marina’s wedding rushing back to her. She’d chafed at being forced to be a flower girl at thirteen, hated the short, floofy, fairy-like dress that matched the one her younger cousin, Elizabeth, wore to much better effect. And now she was taking that cousin’s place as heir.

She half expected the King to hate her on principle. Here she was, alive and well after chasing death across the globe for more than half a decade while his beloved, protected daughters were both dead mere miles from home.

He regarded her stoically for a small eternity. It was the sort of stare many agents she knew in the SSR would have loved to perfect, but it suited him poorly. Part of Peggy wanted to give him tips on how to better intimidate a suspect, but then, that wasn’t her place, and it wasn’t anything he needed to know anyway.

The silence dragged on.

“I was, supposed to present you with, your war medals in person, three years ago,” the King said, still studying Peggy closely. “You never, showed up.”

Peggy blinked. “No, Your Majesty. I was helping to liberate a HYDRA concentration camp at that time. I thought helping the men and women who’d been imprisoned there was more important. Unfortunately, there wasn’t the time to officially decline the ceremony.”

His jaw ticked as he struggled to speak. “There was a dinner in your honor. It, was lovely.”

“Yes, sire,” Peggy said, her stomach twisting.

“Important in a less life, threatening, way.”

“Yes, sire.”

“However noble the cause, you can’t abandon public, appearances to, save the world anymore. There are people, who do that for us.”

“I understand, sire,” she said, hating every word.

It stung to be told so bluntly that she could no longer do what she was good at, what she was trained for, even if it was nothing but a truth she already knew. Peggy stopped herself from grinding her teeth through sheer force of will and concentrated on the King instead.

The muscles in his cheeks and jaw twitched when he struggled to speak, his stammer so blatantly physical it was a wonder anyone ever shamed him for it, though Peggy had thought he was better about controlling it now. She remembered some of his speeches during the war; he seemed much less fluent now, and he was only talking to her, not a room full of people or the anonymous masses listening to the wireless. Perhaps the stresses of the last few years had set him back.

Sympathy rushed through her at the thought of it. Peggy wasn’t the only one who had lost things and people dear to her, though she, at least, could hide it better.

She wasn’t certain that was a good thing.

“I’m not trying to, punish you.” The King wore a slightly wry expression. “I understand being, forced into, something you don’t, want. And you’ve led, a more exciting life, till now, than I used to dream of. At least if my reports, about you are correct.”

“I imagine they’re at least partially correct,” Peggy said. "The ones I sent you about my activities certainly were."

The corner of the King’s mouth twitched up. He gestured her to a nearby sofa and took a seat himself. Peggy sat beside him after he was settled, keeping a respectful distance between them. The bags under his eyes were enormous.

“I’m told you have, a fiancé,” he said.

Peggy only kept her breathing steady through force of practice in preparing for interrogations.

“I do,” she said. There was a pause as they both waited for the other to speak.

“You never said any, thing, to me.” He looked disappointed, possibly even offended.

Peggy took a breath, steeling herself. “After the war, I didn’t think I had cause to be royal any longer,” she confessed. “I didn’t think I was needed in that capacity, so I acted as though I was never royal at all, including not informing you of my engagement.” She bit the inside of her lip, looking down for a moment. “I’m sorry for that. It was poorly done of me. If it helps, I didn’t say anything about my extended family to anyone in America until two days ago when the Earl and Sir Adeane showed up at my door. My friends and my fiancé had no idea I was your cousin.”

“You left everyone in, the dark.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.”

“That’s, some comfort.”

Peggy felt more chastised than if he’d yelled at her, which she’d half expected him to do, his temper being what it was.

Another awkward silence fell between them.

Peggy wasn’t trained for this. She knew how to flirt with and flatter men with large egos and useful information, but she often felt useless when it came to small talk, to creating bonds with people she didn’t know well, but who mattered to her in some way. Usually she let others guide the conversation, giving her clues how to proceed, but the King had never been a great conversationalist either, for obvious reasons. They were stuck.

“You like him?” the King asked, eventually.

“Daniel?” Peggy smiled. “I do. Very much.”

“Tell me about him.”

She hesitated for a moment wondering what to say, but the truth would be the most revealing, and that was what she needed. So Peggy told the King the truth. She told him that Daniel was an American war hero who lost his leg helping to defend valuable and strategic ground for the Allies. She told him that Daniel was one of the bravest, cleverest men she’d ever met, and that being with him felt like the protection of home mixed with the giddiness of new adventures. Just talking about Daniel set her more at ease, and she could tell the King noticed. Hopefully it would be a point in their favor when it came time for him to give his permission for them to marry.

The King listened without interruption, yet gave Peggy the sense that he was genuinely hearing every word she said. She left her audience with him half an hour later hopeful and full of energy. She could hardly wait to tell Daniel the good news.

 

~*~

 

“I’m just saying, you’re not gonna do Peggy any good if you work yourself to death before you can fly over there to marry her,” Rose said as she slammed the passenger side door to his car shut behind her.

Daniel glared at her, crutching quickly around the car and out of traffic to join her on the sidewalk.

“I am not working myself to death,” he said, only somewhat petulantly.

“Really? Cause she’s been gone two days so far and I’m pretty sure you only went home last night to get a clean shirt. You can’t live at the office, Daniel; it’s not good for you.”

He sighed, caught out.

It wasn’t like he intended to sleep at the office for however long it took Peggy to convince the King to give him a chance, but lately he’d been going home with Peggy a step or two behind him or waiting for him across the city to take her out for a date. Hell, a couple of times she’d already been there when he got home, which was frankly fantastic, even if all they did was pore over case files while eating take out. Coming home the first night after she left to a cold, dark house with no prospect of Peggy in the near future was unexpectedly unbearable. It felt too much like those nights before Peggy came to LA, too much like lost opportunities and a desperation to move on. Moving on was the last thing he wanted to do now. He’d much rather move forward, with Peggy by his side.

“I just need to adjust a little, that’s all,” he said.

“There’s adjusting, and then there’s wallowing,” Rose said, moving through the office door Daniel held open for her. He shot her an unimpressed look and jerked his chin toward the phone ringing on her desk.

“You gonna answer that, or would you rather nag me all day?”

“I’d rather nag you.”

She grinned as she picked up the phone. Daniel started to make his escape into the file room. “Auerbach Theatrical Agency. One moment, I’ll transfer you to his office” Rose said, waving at him to hurry up the stairs. “He’s just heading in there now.”

Daniel nodded at her, curious. It wasn’t critically important or she’d have handed him her own phone, but it was important enough she knew he’d want the privacy of a closed door. Maybe it was someone from Washington, calling about cases being transferred to SHIELD. Or maybe, his heart skipped a beat at the thought, it was Peggy, finally able to call him from London.

He hurried across the bullpen and closed his door, absent-mindedly hanging his crutch on its hook before throwing himself into his chair and picking up his phone.

“Sousa.”

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

“Edie. Hi.”

Shit. He’d been so busy feeling sorry for himself he hadn’t called any of his family back East since before the cancelled engagement party. And clearly Peggy had run into at least one of them on her way through New York.

“You couldn’t tell me yourself that you’re marrying into royalty? _Royalty, Daniel?_ ” Yep, she’d seen Peggy. “You’re supposed to be my good brother. This is the kind of crap Samuel would pull. Except he could never land someone like Peggy to begin with.”

Daniel sighed. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know until right before she left?”

“That’s no excuse. It’s been two days since then. She was at the automat yesterday looking pale and gorgeous and stressed. I’ve been pacing the floor waiting for a decent time to call you at the office since you wouldn’t pick up at home last night. Seriously, what’s the point of having a home phone if you’re never there to answer it?”

Guilt twisted in Daniel’s stomach. He really shouldn’t have allowed himself to wallow like he had been, and damn Rose for pointing it out in the first place.

“Sorry,” he said. “Long night here. And what were you doing at the automat yesterday anyway? Don’t you have classes to teach?”

“Just the one in the mornings, and don’t change the subject.”

“Edie, you’re being careful, right?”

“I’m not an idiot and neither is Angie. Don’t change the subject.”

“Edie-”

“Are you two breaking up?”

“What?”

“Is that why she looked so rough and you stayed at the office so late? You do that when you want to avoid thinking about something, you know.” Daniel ran a hand down his face. Edith was entirely too perceptive about things like this. He’d forgotten just how easily she picked things up about his love life. “So are you? Breaking up with her? She said you weren’t, but she kinda looked like she was trying to convince herself of it as much as Angie and me when she said it.”

“We’re not breaking up,” he said, possibly more strongly than he needed to.

He could practically hear her smiling when she said, “Okay. So you just miss each other already.”

It welled up in his chest and his throat how much he missed Peggy, prickling behind his eyes before he fought the feeling back down again.

“Yeah.”

“How’s this all supposed to work then? With you in LA and her in London?”

“Still trying to figure that out, actually. We weren’t exactly given a lot of time to plan anything, you know?”

“And it’s not gonna cause any problems, you marrying into the Royal Family? Which is not something I ever thought I was gonna say, let me tell you.”

Daniel’s gut clenched.

“I, um, might have to convert to Church of England first. Apparently having Catholics that close to the throne makes people twitchy over there for some reason.”

Edith didn’t laugh. It wasn’t one of his best jokes, but he didn’t exactly expect it to be met with crackling silence either.

“Edie?”

“Daniel, you can’t convert,” she said, voice flat and shocked.

“Sure I can. I haven’t actually looked into how I’d need to yet, but-”

“No, Daniel, you _can’t_. It’s who you are.”

Daniel blinked, utterly nonplussed. Of all people, he didn’t expect Edith to be one of the ones fighting him on this.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked. “You stopped going to Mass after Mom died just like I did.”

Edith had only been 10 when their mom died, the baby of the family. Their older sisters had tried to pack her and Daniel off to church every Sunday for awhile after that, but they had their own growing families to worry about, and sometimes it just didn’t happen. Besides, after their dad moved with them to Long Island to be closer to his Jewish family and escape the shame of their brother, Samuel, going to prison for being an idiot, the task of sending Daniel and Edith to church fell to neighbors, and then eventually dropped off the list of things they worried about altogether. They only went to Mass at Christmas and Easter after that to make their oldest sister, Ruth, happy when she called.

“I’ve been going with Angie.” Edith said. “It’s… nice. Her parents are really religious, so she makes sure to at least go to confession once a week, and, well, when her schedule allows it, we’ve started going to Mass together too. I really like it.”

She sounded so soft and young when she said it. Daniel’s heart clenched in happiness for her. Edith had been searching for love even harder than Daniel had over the years, and having even worse luck with it. For once, she finally seemed to be dating someone who deserved her, even if, to the outside world and the rest of their families, they were nothing more than roommates.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, then grinned. “I didn’t know you’d have so much in common when I set you up.”

She huffed. “You’re never gonna let me live it down that you found my girlfriend for me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Jerk.” She took a deep breath, and Daniel prepared himself for whatever onslaught was coming. “There’s really no way for you to marry Peggy without converting?”

Daniel sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I mean, I guess she could refuse the crown, but that’s not gonna happen. She takes her duty too seriously to ever consider it.”

“Well, can’t she just rewrite the law or whatever it is that’s stopping her? That’s something monarchs can do, isn’t it?”

“You were just a kid when it happened, but the last time a British monarch wanted to marry someone Parliament didn’t approve of, they forced him to step down. I don’t think he’s even allowed to live in the country anymore. I’m not gonna do that to Peggy.” He’d rather give her up first, which was not something he was willing to consider until they’d tried everything else and failed.

“I just-” Edith sighed, a great gust that crackled down the phone line. “You’re my favorite sibling, Danny. I can’t stand the thought of you going to Hell for this.”

The nerve of Edith, of all people, saying that to him rankled. “I’ve already been to Hell, Edie,” he said sharply. “It’s not as warm as everyone would have you believe.”

He heard her sob and felt instantly guilty.

“Look. I’m not doing this lightly, okay? I’m not running out to convert today or even tomorrow. But, it’s Peggy, Edie. She’s….”

“Your person,” Edith said quietly.

“Yeah. I’m gonna do what it takes to convince those stiffs to let me marry her.”

“Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons, Daniel.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand through the back of his hair. “It’s not like I was ever as into it as the rest of you, even before Mom died. Dad had to convince me to go through with my Confirmation.”

Edith huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Dad did? How did that work?”

“A lot of talking in circles.” He sighed again, exhausted and really not in the mood to get into a theological argument so early in the morning. “Look, Edie, I’ve gotta let you go. I have a meeting out of the office, and at some point I’m hoping Peggy can call.”

“Okay, just. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Daniel closed his eyes and didn’t snap at her. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He said instead. “Peggy still wants you and Angie for bridesmaids you know, so no getting yourself hurt.”

“That’s what she said yesterday. Angie already won’t shut up about it.”

They said their goodbyes and Daniel hung up to sit in the relative silence of his office. Of everything he expected from his little sister, a rediscovery of faith was one of the last. A selfish bitterness welled up in him at the thought of her outburst, of her hypocrisy; he pushed it down. It wasn’t fair for him to judge her about her life any more than it was fair for her to judge him about his.

God, he missed Peggy. He wanted to bury himself in the soft skin of her throat and the light scent of her hair and not have to think about any of this. Looking around, he couldn’t even find anything in his office to remind him of her.

The coffee-stained case notes from three days ago were hidden away in their folder and filed. Her flowery teacup, a joking birthday present from Jack, was washed and put away in the little kitchenette down the hall. In fact, everything was put away where it was supposed to be. All the chaos Peggy brought with her was tidied and out of sight, like it had never been there in the first place.

A lump rose in his throat again only to be ruthlessly swallowed down and ignored.

This wasn’t the time. He could miss her all he wanted, but Daniel still had work to do.

Daniel always had more work to do. He could at least count on that.

 

~*~

 

Peggy listened as the telephone connection bounced across the Atlantic to New York, and from New York across various cities of the continental US to Los Angeles. She’d never made a call more insecure; the number of people potentially listening in was staggering.

Finally, after minutes of pacing and twisting her fingers in the telephone cord in more and more intricate patterns, Rose’s familiar, unflappable voice answered, “Auerbach Theatrical Agency.”

“Rose? It’s me.”

“Peg?” Peggy could hear the smile in her voice even across all the miles and staticky phone connections between them. “I mean, Your-”

“Peggy’s fine. Is he in?”

“He’s at a lunch meeting out of the office. I can have him call you back?”

Peggy’s stomach swooped then fell and settled like lead in her gut. All at once, her good mood from meeting the King was gone.

“Yes, please do.” She gave Rose instructions for reaching the phone in her rooms and said goodbye without a hint of tremor in her voice. She was proud of herself for that.

She was also proud of herself for making it all the way over to the sofa before her knees gave out beneath her.

He’d call her back. He would.

Peggy’s heart thundered in her chest. She couldn’t stop her bottom lip from trembling.

They were engaged now. This wasn’t like before. He wasn’t avoiding her calls on purpose this time, he was simply out of the office at a lunch meeting. Perfectly understandable. Almost to be expected, really. He was an important man with an office to run. It didn’t mean anything.

But if a three hour time difference felt like a lifetime, what of an eight hour difference with an ocean between them? The world had never felt so insurmountably big before.

Peggy tried to focus on her breathing, on ignoring the pressure building behind her eyes.

She was in another country now, starting what would be a very different life. Everything was going to be different from now on.

And what if it was too different for him to bear? What if she’d already lost him? She wasn’t sure how to do this without him. She twisted her engagement ring on her right ring finger, where she’d moved it on the plane ride across the ocean to avoid scrutiny. It felt wrong there, alien in a way it never had in its rightful place.

Peggy bit the inside of her lip and tried her best not to cry.

A knock came at the door, which opened moments later to reveal a tall, well-dressed woman in late middle age. Grey was starting to creep into her hair, which was cut in the new, shorter fashion now coming out of Paris. Her makeup was as flawless as Peggy’s own. She curtsied as the footman introduced her as Lady Eugenia Besswell.

Peggy took a deep breath to compose herself. The interruption was likely for the best, anyway.

“Lady Besswell. Good evening.”

“Good evening to you, Your Royal Highness,” she said. Her voice was a melodic alto; the hint of a soft Welsh accent instantly put Peggy more at ease. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

“Tardiness?”

“Queen Mary has asked me to be your lady-in-waiting.”

“I see,” Peggy said. Discomfort curled through her stomach; Peggy had no idea what ladies-in-waiting actually did.

Lady Besswell’s smile was kind. “You’ve never had one before, have you, Ma’am?”

“No, I haven’t,” Peggy said, smiling back ruefully. “What, exactly are you meant to do?”

Lady Besswell shrugged. “Mostly attend you during your ceremonial duties and official visits, help you plan your schedule, that sort of thing. But I think Queen Mary also hoped I might become a companion to you, help you settle into royal life.”

“I see.”

“One of my jobs will be to make sure you look good.” She looked Peggy up and down, her lips quirking in a smile. “Somehow I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Peggy straightened under her gaze and tried not to fidget at the attention. “Well, appearances can be important.”

“And nowhere more so than on the public stage. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re not one of those royals who can’t be bothered with fashion.” She leaned in, as though conferring a secret. “I had nightmares about being forced into boxy tweed in dull colors so as not to upstage you.”

Peggy smiled and gestured for Lady Besswell to join her on the sofa, and felt infinitely more comfortable once she did. It was almost like gossiping with Angie when she first met her.

“I would never expect anyone to do that. Boxy tweeds are a nightmare of mine, as well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’ve a few things I brought with me from California,” Peggy said, sticking with fashion as a topic being as easy as anything else would be. “One of my friends there is an accomplished seamstress and was always providing me with new clothes. I’m not certain how much of it will be suitable to royal life, though.”

“We can look at it later. I’ve already spoken with your dresser; we’ve set aside some time tomorrow for Norman Hartnell to come by with some options for the Opening Ceremony next Thursday. He’s the Queen’s Dressmaker.”

“Opening Ceremony for what?” Peggy asked.

“For the Olympics here in London. They’re the first ones since before the war,” Lady Besswell said, sounding surprised.

“Oh!” Peggy exclaimed, feeling foolish. Once upon a time, it was exactly the sort of thing she would have paid attention to. “I hadn’t realized, in all the frenzy to get here…”

“Of course, you must be tired from your travels.”

“Not really,” Peggy said, playing with her engagement ring again. “Just missing home. Or what I was starting to think of as home, anyway.”

Lady Besswell hesitated. “You were living in America, were you not?” she asked gently.

“Yes. In California for the past year.”

“Palm trees and movie stars and easy access to the beach. It sounds exciting.”

“That’s one word for it,” Peggy said, unable to help the wry twist to her mouth.

“And you miss it?”

“I’ll certainly miss the weather in coming months.”

“Are you suggesting it’s better than our gloomy grey winters?” Lady Besswell had a mischievous sparkle in her eye Peggy approved of.

“Not a suggestion so much as a statement of fact.” Lady Besswell grinned, and Peggy found her spirits lightening. “I think I will like having you as a friend, Lady Besswell,” she said.

“Call me Eugenie. In private, at least. It’s what all my friends call me.”

“Then I have to insist on Peggy. In private.”

Eugenie blinked, then smiled. “Very well. Peggy.”

And she was back to needing to employ small talk when she had no idea what to say. She tried one of Rose’s tricks for getting conversations going.

“So, Eugenie, what do you do when you’re not being roped into royal service?”

“I’m a photographer. Nothing professional, of course, but it’s a fun hobby. I picked it up from my late husband. He was an avid fan of the science of photography.”

“Was he?”

“Oh yes, he even hauled a little VPK around with him in the trenches of the Great War. That’s how we met, actually. He was taking a picture and got himself shot in the buttocks.”

Peggy laughed. “I’d have given him what for if he’d done it on my watch.”

“I certainly did when I found out. He was mortified. Apparently it happened in front of nearly all his men.”

Peggy chuckled. It was the sort of thing she could imagine happening to Dum Dum Dugan.

“I must say, I’ve heard rumors about your service during the war, but I wasn’t certain whether or not I should discount them,” Eugenie said.

Peggy smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t confirm much without breaking the Official Secrets Act.”

“Which confirms enough, right there,” Eugenie said, eye sparkling. She leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “I always wondered what it would be like working in intelligence during the Great War. I saw enough blood and death working for the Red Cross as a nurse.”

“You were a nurse?”

“Mm. Near enough the front lines we saw the worst of it. Mater fainted when I told her I’d signed up for the Red Cross in France, but I wanted to help the war effort, so off I went.”

“It was the same for me. I don’t think Mum ever forgave me for it. Not that she had much chance to; she didn’t outlive the war.”

Peggy didn’t even hear about it until more than week after the funeral was over. And oh, how that still stung. She’d been in Germany at the time, leading the Howling Commandos in cleaning up one of Hydra’s messes less than a month after Steve’s plane went down. The telegram hadn’t even been marked urgent, her mother’s spiteful sister using it as a way to punish Peggy for jilting Fred.

Peggy would never forgive her aunt for that.

“Mothers forgive more than we give them credit for. I certainly did, though it took some doing” Eugenie said.

“You have children?”

“I had a son.” Eugenie said, her voice catching. “He’d be a few years older than you are if his plane hadn’t been shot down.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy said, the news hitting her like a punch. She wondered if the war would ever stop taking things from those who’d lived through it.

“It was his choice to go. He always loved flying. I like to think he’d prefer dying for King and country if he had the choice between that and something else. Especially if it happened while flying through the air.”

Peggy bit the inside of her lip.

Yes, it was easier to think those she’d lost to the war preferred the deaths they’d gotten to ones less noble in nature. Steve had certainly said so as his plane went down. But as the one being left behind, Peggy couldn’t help thinking that a less violent death would always be preferable. She’d been terrified every time during those moments she nearly died, and she hated thinking of her loved ones feeling the same.

Of course, like them, being terrified never stopped her doing the dangerous work that could kill her at any time. Dangerous work always needed to be done, after all, especially in a war.

“Let’s talk about something lighter,” Eugenie said before the silence between them could get awkward. “Tell me about California. You left friends there?”

“Yes, a great many friends, actually. I had the dubious honor of staying with Howard Stark while I was there.”

“Howard Stark!” Eugenie exclaimed. “Is he as much of a ladies’ man as the rumors say? I don’t like to pay much attention to gossip, but sometimes it can’t be avoided.”

“He’s at least as much of an incorrigible flirt and lothario as you’ve heard, and doubtlessly much moreso” Peggy said wryly.

“You weren’t-”

“Dear God, no! What a horrible thought. He tried to kiss me on VE Day and I pushed him into the Thames. He looked like a drowned rat afterward and smelled worse. No one else would kiss him after that either. He was horribly cross about it.”

Eugenie collapsed into laughter and Peggy joined her. It felt good to laugh.

“Oh, I wish I could have seen that!” Eugenie wiped a tear from her eye. “I never quite had the gumption to tell a man no like that. Especially not when I was younger.”

“It’s quite liberating,” Peggy said with a straight face. “I recommend it.”

They both cracked up again.

“Surely you didn’t say no to all the men,” Eugenie said when she finally got hold of herself again.

Peggy fiddled with her engagement ring. “No, not all the men.”

“You’ve a sweetheart,” Eugenie guessed.

“I-” Peggy wasn’t sure what was safe to say. The King still hadn’t given his permission, hadn’t said anything about Daniel one way or the other beyond wanting to know more about him, and Peggy certainly didn’t want to cause any trouble about it on her first day at the Palace. Fortunately, Eugenie rescued her.

“You do, and you’re not certain he’ll be welcome here. He’s an American?”

“Yes.”

“That will make things difficult. He’s not a movie star, is he?”

“No,” Peggy said with a smile. “Though he has the looks of one. In my opinion, anyway.”

Eugenie smiled at her. “Good for you. Young women should be in love at least once, and you seem as though you are.”

“I haven’t been able to speak to him since I left,” Peggy said, feeling childish. “When I tried to call earlier, he was out.”

“So, you try again later. You’ll reach him again.”

And then, almost on cue, a wonderful thing happened.

The phone rang.

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS), was the British Women’s branch of the British Army. By VE Day there were 190,000 active service women in the ATS. Princess Elizabeth served with the ATS as a mechanic and lorry driver in the last months of the war, and Winston Churchill's youngest daughter, Mary, served in mixed anti-aircraft batteries, eventually earning the rank of Junior Commander (equivalent to Captain).
> 
> Norman Hartnell was a famous British fashion designer of the era, and was indeed Queen Elizabeth’s official Dressmaker. He was commissioned to make Princess Elizabeth’s wedding dress and coronation gown, and later became her official Dressmaker as well.  
>   
> 
> 
> The Vest Pocket Kodak (VPK) was a small portable camera (measuring 1 x 2 ½ x 4 ¾ inches when closed) with a metal body which was popular with soldiers during WWI. More than 2 million VPKs were sold before they were discontinued in 1926.
> 
> The Official Secrets Act 1911 is the UK’s main legal protection against espionage and the unauthorized disclosure of information. The amendments to it in 1920 and 1939 set out offences related to spying, sabotage and related crimes. In practice, it meant that after the war, many people (especially women) couldn’t get work they were qualified for because they couldn’t say how they knew certain skills, or couldn’t talk about what they did during the war. Some men were dishonorably discharged or fired from their jobs during the war because defending themselves would have meant violating the Official Secrets Act. In many cases, the truth didn’t come out until decades after the war, when some of the people affected were already dead.


	5. In which Daniel has a crisis of faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix and K for reader services and to [Paeonia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for kicking my ass on this chapter. I do think it’s better for it even if it did mean multiple rewrites. Thanks also to [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for brainstorming with me about Daniel and sports, even though I ultimately had to cut out the resulting bit of peggysous flirting for a better flow. :(

Daniel walked into the front office and immediately had to dodge around a disappointed-looking boy with a dog lingering just inside the door. A large man in a plaid suit eyed Daniel up and down and huffed before herding the boy and dog out the door.

Daniel raised an eyebrow at Rose and tried not to laugh at her look of long-suffering annoyance.

“He said he had a referral,” she said flatly.

Daniel felt his smile twitch. “Anything else happen while I was gone?”

“Peggy called; left you a message.”

Damn.

He bit off the curse before he could voice it.

Daniel took the slip of paper Rose held up for him and glanced at it. Then he looked it over more closely.

That was a lot of hoops he was going to have to jump through.

“How was she?” he asked.

Rose smiled kindly. “Disappointed she didn’t get to talk to you, but she sounded fine.”

He nodded, then waved the message slip once through the air as he said, “Anyone else wants me I’m not in.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” she said, beaming.

Daniel hurried up the hidden stairway as fast as his leg would let him. He was across the bullpen and in his office shutting the door and closing the blinds before any of his agents could even think about talking to him.

It had been two days since he’d kissed Peggy goodbye on Stark’s doorstep, and he already missed her so much he could barely concentrate on anything else. His lunch meeting might as well not have happened for all he took in from it; all his focus had been on wondering when Peggy could call.

If this kept up, the next few months were going to be a worse hell than expected.

He sat down and dialed. The phone took forever to connect.

Finally, after being routed through various levels of the Palace’s administration, there was a crackle, then the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hello?”

“Peg? It’s me.”

“Daniel!” There was another crackle and an indistinct murmur. “I missed you,” she said quietly a moment later.

Daniel’s throat closed up, his eyes watering. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you called earlier.”

“I expect we’ll have to get used to that.”

The thought of it was unbearable. “Or we could figure out what time of day works best for both of us and just set that time aside so we don’t miss each other’s calls.”

“So we could talk every day? I could live with that,” Peggy said, a smile bright in her voice. He wished he was there to see it, to kiss it and make it bigger.

“I’m not sure I could live without it.”

“Sweet talker.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, how’s London?”

“I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet. I have staff who report to me.”

“My staff’s been reporting to you for months.”

“Yes, but they’re not responsible for my schedule or my wardrobe. I have a woman working for me whose sole job is to look after my clothes and dress me. My lady-in-waiting already knows my schedule weeks in advance. Speaking of which, I now know what my first official public appearance will be.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m helping the King to open the Olympics.”

Daniel blinked. Well, that was starting off big.

“I hope they’ll let me watch some of the events,” she continued. “I was glued to the radio when they happened while I was growing up. Except for Berlin. I was glued to the radio for a different reason then.”

“I think a lot of us were,” Daniel said. “Peg, why wouldn’t they let you watch any of the events?”

“I don’t know that they won’t. They probably will. Good press and all that.”

“Peggy.”

“I’m trying to learn the rules, still. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, isn’t it? Being a good little princess until you can get here.” Her voice held traces of a bitterness he’d heard all too often in the first months they knew each other. Daniel’s gut clenched. “It’s different from just being a lady. There are more rules, more constrictions on what I am and am not expected to do. I know some of them, but not all of them, and I don’t want to muck it up.”

“You won’t. You’re the best at what you do. You can handle this.”

“I have thought of treating it as an assignment. Problem is, if I mess up an assignment I might get myself killed. If I mess this up, I could lose you, and that would be worse.”

Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. Blood and fear and that awful pale look on Peggy’s face flashed through his mind.

“Trust me,” he rasped out. “It wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” she said, her voice softer. “It’s still sinking in just how many ways I’m going to miss you until you can get here.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it, to tell you the truth,” Daniel said, sobering. “Don’t think I’m succeeding, though.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping at the office.”

“I got used to seeing you every day, seeing you in my house some days. I just have to get used to… not.”

“Not too used to it, I hope.”

Daniel thought of weeks desperately trying to forget Peggy when he first moved to Los Angeles. He’d managed it so poorly that when he first saw her again during the Isodyne case, he genuinely thought for a moment that he’d progressed to hallucinations.

“Impossible,” he said.

“When is a good time to call every day?” Peggy asked. “I’m holding you to that suggestion, because I’d hate to spend half our phone conversations negotiating the next time we can actually speak.”

Daniel picked up the notepad he’d scribbled on the first night after Peggy left and he’d discovered how much he didn’t want to be home without her. The top page held a rather depressing table of times on it.

“I know you hate waking up early, but I did the math, and if you can call at six or seven in the morning your time, it’ll only be ten or eleven at night here. I can still be awake to answer. Or I can call you, which might be easier anyway. Any other time means you’ll be missing sleep or one or both of us will have work responsibilities that could keep us away from a phone.”

The phone line crackled.

“I don’t mind missing sleep if it means getting to talk to you.”

“If I can’t sleep at the office, you’re not allowed to skip sleep altogether.”

Peggy sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I’m not that difficult to rouse in the morning. But if I’m waking up so early, then you’re definitely not allowed to sleep at the office. I’ll have Rose get rid of your couch.”

“Deal.”

There was another pause as the new nature of their relationship sank in yet again.

“You know, I don’t even have a picture of you with me,” Peggy said.

“Surely you don’t want some snapshot of this ugly mug,” Daniel joked.

“I do. Very much. I didn’t even think about it when I was packing, and now I’m here and my rooms don’t feel like they’re mine.”

“I’ll send you one then,” Daniel said, then hesitated. “You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to you sending me one of you.”

“You’ve got plenty of pictures of me. You’re a menace when you get a camera in your hands,” she teased.

“I meant of the more… French postcard variety.”

Peggy huffed, making the phone line crackle. “They’d wring my neck if photographs of me in a state of undress got out.”

“Yeah, probably,” Daniel said, feeling unaccountably disappointed even if he knew when he suggested it that the possibility was slim.

“Peach or black lace?”

Daniel blinked. “Uh.”

“Well, you did ask.”

Damn he loved her.

“How about you choose,” he said.

“Deal.”

Daniel smiled, longing to pull her into his lap and kiss the hell out of her. Their first kiss in this very chair had a lot to answer for.

“I should let you get back to work,” Peggy said sadly, bringing his fledgling fantasy to a screeching halt. “I ran into Angie and Edith on my way through New York, and I promised Edith we would only be apart long enough for you to wrap things up out there. You can’t exactly do that talking to me.”

“I’d rather talk to you.” The reminder of his conversation with Edith that morning was definitely something he could have done without. “But you’re right. It’s late over there and I’m still at work.”

“I love you,” Peggy said.

Daniel’s heart skipped a beat like always. “I love you too, Peg.”

And then the connection was gone and Daniel was alone in his office again.

He hung up the receiver and looked at it for a while. Everyone he loved best was half a world away or more. And one of them was angry at him.

He picked up the phone again and made another long distance call. This time the voice that answered on the other end settled his heart and felt like home.

“Hey, Dad,” he said.

“Daniel!” His dad sounded surprised; Daniel felt guilt twinge through him. The last time he’d talked to his dad was to tell him about his engagement to Peggy, and before that it had been months. “This is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Have you talked to Edie recently?”

“A week ago. Why? Is she sick?”

“She’s spitting mad at me, not that she’ll admit it, but as far as I know she’s well.”

“Is she still upset you had your party in California? I told her it only made sense; that’s where you live now. You can’t live your life at our convenience.”

“I’m sure that factors into it.”

“Then what is she angry at you for?”

Daniel swallowed, suddenly appreciating why Peggy had such a difficult time telling him the truth about herself. Even in their line of work, it sounded so fantastic that it was almost unbelievable.

“You know Peggy’s from England, right?”

“Yes, you told me. Beautiful accent. We Sousa men are weak for a beautiful accent.”

Daniel huffed a laugh. His mother’s Italian accent used to get so thick when she was angry it was hard to understand her. He took a brief moment to wonder what she would have thought about all of this. He was pretty certain she’d have adored Peggy regardless of anything else.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he said. “Listen, Dad, Peggy’s not just from England. It turns out she’s gonna be ruling it someday. As Queen.”

There was a crackling silence on the other end so deep Daniel worried he’d lost the connection.

“Dad?”

“Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me? Are you saying your Peggy is a princess?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“A real princess.”

“Yeah.”

“And why didn’t you lead with that when you first told me about her?”

“I didn’t know myself until this weekend.”

“She didn’t tell you.” He sounded disapproving.

“No. I kinda got the impression she wanted to forget that part of her life. She thought she was farther down the line of succession than she really is.”

There was another stretch of silence, and Daniel tried to think what else he could say to defend Peggy in his dad’s eyes.

“Are you still getting married?” his dad asked eventually. Daniel took a breath, his stomach tying itself in knots over the idea of not marrying Peggy. After talking to her the possibility felt farther away, but until they’d actually gone through the ceremony and signed the marriage license, a part of Daniel was always going to worry that it wasn’t going to happen.

“I hope so. I want to. I just… This complicates everything,” he said. His dad laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure it does. Not exactly what you thought you were signing up for, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” He paused for a beat. “I’ll need to convert to the Church of England.”

There was another silence, then, “I see why Edith is upset with you now. She goes to church with her roommate nearly every Sunday these days. She’s had a religious awakening.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to convert?”

Daniel leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Want doesn’t really factor into it. They’ll never let me marry Peggy if I don’t, and,” he took a breath, steadying himself, “not marrying her isn’t an option.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The Palace. The King. Honestly, I haven’t looked into the details much yet, but it’s a thing I’m going to have to deal with.”

“Yes, I believe the English have fought a war or two not to be Catholic,” his dad said, voice dry as the desert. “I’m not surprised they wouldn’t want their princess marrying one.”

“No.”

“What I want to know is, why haven’t you done your research on this yet? That’s not like you. What are you hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding from anything.”

“Really? You think I don’t know you took that library page job in high school to satisfy your curiosity about the world just as much as to earn a bit more money for the family?”

“Dad…”

“You love learning things, Daniel. It gives you the same thrill it gives me. If the war hadn’t come, I’d have found a way to send you to college just like Edith, and just like her you probably would never have left. It’s not like you to shirk learning even bad news, it never was, so why are you avoiding it now? What are you afraid of?”

Losing Peggy. The answer was that simple and that complicated.

He’d always thought of her as her own woman, an irrepressible force to be reckoned with, and he was fine with that; it was one of the many reasons he loved her. But now it seemed she wasn’t entirely her own person no matter what she had to say about it. She belonged to the monarchy, to the British people, and what they thought meant much more than his and Peggy’s private thoughts either separately or together.

“They’ve got a lot of reasons to not like me over there,” he said. “Which would be fine, but,” he sighed, “I don’t want to be the reason history repeats itself.”

“It couldn’t, not like that and you know it,” his dad said, so sure of it Daniel almost believed him. “You’ve never been married, for one thing, so you couldn’t be divorced. That was the problem with that Simpson woman King Edward whatever he was wanted to marry in the 30s, wasn’t it?”

“The main one they talked about, yeah.”

“Of course you know more of the story. You probably took your first SSR job to have access to secrets the rest of us aren’t allowed to know.” Daniel huffed a laugh. “Just tell me it’s not about your leg.”

“Dad–”

“There are a lot of reasons for doing anything. Indulge me and tell me one of yours isn’t guided by worry over your leg.”

“It’s not about my leg,” Daniel said firmly. “I’m sure people won’t be thrilled about it, but Peggy doesn’t care and neither do I.”

“All right. Good. So that means you’re worried she’ll have to choose between you and the throne and you’ll lose out.”

Daniel laughed to himself. Of course his dad would figure it out.

“Yeah,” he said.

“If it comes down to it and she doesn’t choose you, then she isn’t the woman you say she is.”

“Dad–”

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, but when you marry I want it to be to someone who deserves you. You think it’s your Peggy, fine. You know what will make you happy. But our choices aren’t always about happiness. You know that. Now ask me what you called to ask me.”

Daniel smiled, in that moment missing his dad more than he had in years.

“What do I do?” he asked quietly.

“About converting? You’re asking me? I’m not even Catholic.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking. Why did you let Mom raise us Catholic?”

“Because children follow the mother. If I’d wanted to raise my children Jewish I would have found a nice Jewish girl and married her. But instead I met your mother. I married her because I loved her and wanted to share my life with her. Her religion, her nationality, none of that mattered to me. What mattered to me was that she was kind and determined and the loveliest girl I’d ever laid eyes on. I fell for her instantly, and I never once regretted it.”

“So, you don’t think I’m betraying anything?”

“Do you think you’re betraying anything? That’s the more important question.”

Daniel sighed. That was the entire problem; he didn’t know. But he also wasn’t certain he cared.

“Listen, Daniel my love. Your faith is your own. How you practice it or don’t practice it is up to you and no one but you. I defended you to Ruth when you stopped going to services after your mother died. I can defend you to Edith if her disapproval bothers you so much. I know how close you two are. But your decisions are your own. No one can make them for you, and no one should try, not even your sisters. Doesn’t mean they won’t,” he added with a jovial lift, “but you’ve fought and sacrificed to get where you are. If anyone deserves the luxury of his own decisions, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course. Get out of the office for a bit. I know you’re calling me from your desk, so go somewhere else, take a walk. Go sit somewhere quiet for a while. What you do or don’t do is between you and God.”

 

~*~

 

Peggy stood in the small dressing area they’d partitioned off in one of Buckingham Palace’s larger drawing rooms and scrutinized herself in the mirror.

Eugenie regarded her calmly. “You don’t like it,” she said.

“It’s lovely,” Peggy said, adjusting the lay of her neckline. The fabric across her bust sagged as though the designer had expected it to be larger, which was quite unprecedented, but that was easily enough fixed. She couldn’t expect everything to fit her perfectly the first time she put it on, after all, that’s what fittings were for.

Her dresser, Mildred Fuller, a quiet 19 year old from West London, stood off to the side, biting her lip.

“But…” Eugenie prompted.

“But nothing. It’s lovely. I haven’t worn coral all over like this in years.”

“Peggy.”

Peggy sighed. “I look like my mother.”

“Short-waisted, and those sleeves don’t flatter you at all,” Eugenie said. “Not exactly the sort of image a vibrant young woman like yourself should be projecting.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Peggy hedged.

“It kind of is, Ma’am,” Mildred said, then sucked both her lips into her mouth as though worried she’d spoken out of turn.

“Well, I certainly don’t like the sleeves, you’re right about that. Isn’t it supposed to be too hot for long sleeves this week? Even if they are made out of whatever this floaty fabric is.”

“That’s georgette, Ma’am,” Mildred said.

Peggy pushed the fabric up her right arm until it more closely resembled the short sleeves from some of the blouses she already owned.

“That’s somewhat better. Though this neckline is awfully high.”

“You don’t like high necklines?” Eugenie asked, motioning for Mildred to lay a string of pearls around Peggy’s throat.

“I’m not opposed to them if the fit of the rest of the bodice is tighter,” Peggy said, motioning Mildred to take the pearls away before she could fasten them. She caught the girl smiling in what might be approval as she turned to put them back in their case. “What hat am I meant to be wearing?”

“You’ve two choices, Ma’am,” Mildred said, shuffling through some of the boxes piled up to the side. She turned around carrying a red cartwheel hat and a smaller turban-like thing in shades of cream with coral accents.

“The red,” Peggy said without hesitation.

“I think the red is actually meant for a different outfit,” Eugenie said, eyes wide.

“It is, but the other option for this dress looks too much like the turban, and Her Royal Highness does so like red, I thought it might be a bold choice,” Mildred said.

Peggy blinked at her. That may have been the most the girl had uttered since she met her.

“Bold is certainly one word for it,” Eugenie said.

“My sunglasses are red,” Peggy said. “If I wore red shoes as well…”

“And a red belt!” Mildred exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “To emphasize your waist.”

“I do like belts,” Peggy said.

Eugenie tilted her head, considering. “Your gloves are white.”

Peggy’s heart fell. She’d always hated wearing gloves. The war gave her an excuse to stop wearing them and so, before becoming a fully fledged princess, she’d only owned one pair to be worn when going undercover somewhere they were expected.

Perhaps she could change the fashion away from wearing them. She was certainly going to be publicly visible enough to be influential in that way, Eugenie had made that quite clear. Her classmates at school used to titter over what her cousins and their spouses were wearing all the time; surely people still did the same now.

“Do I have to wear gloves?”

Eugenie gave her a knowing look. “Yes. At the very least, you need to carry them with you.”

Peggy sighed. A girl could dream, anyway.

“A white and coral band around the hat should tie everything together nicely,” Mildred said. "And we could always get red gloves for you Ma'am. Or dye these ones. It wouldn't take much."

“How are we doing in there, Your Royal Highness?” Hartnell called from beyond the screens blocking off the dressing area from the rest of the room. He was a flamboyant, craggy-faced man who was responsible for making some of her mother’s sparklier evening gowns before the war, though this was the first time Peggy had met him in person.

Peggy grabbed the red hat from Mildred’s hand and strode out into the room.

“I think we’ll need to make some changes,” she said.

He blinked and eyed the dress, grimacing when he glanced at her bust. “Yes, I think I see what you mean. The bodice isn’t laying at all as it should.”

“No, it’s not. If the neckline is going to be this high, I’ll want it much more fitted.”

“Perhaps a trifle more fitted,” Hartnell conceded. “If I may?” he gestured at her with a cushion full of straight pins and she nodded her acquiescence. “You are rather well-endowed, Your Royal Highness. There’s no need to emphasize that.”

“There’s no need to hide it, either.”

“We don’t want to give the public the wrong impression–”

“Men will ogle me whether I try to hide my breasts or not. I assure you, I am quite capable of handling whatever they throw at me. If the neckline is to remain this high I want the bodice more fitted, otherwise I’d prefer a lower neckline, or perhaps some keyholes around the neck to replace the need for a necklace.”

Hartnell stopped pinning the dress and stepped back to give her a serious look.

“I will not do keyholes,” he said gravely. Peggy opened her mouth to object, but he held up a hand to stop her. “Ma’am, with all due respect, you are royalty. Royal dress must never be pedestrian. It requires a style outside the prevailing conventions of modishness. It must, in fact, reflect the current fashion as little as possible if it is to retain its dignity. One day you will be Queen, and a Queen cannot dress so much in the fashion that a picture of her ten – or even five – years later will cause people to smile and think her old-fashioned. That is why Queens require their own style, and that is why I will not do keyholes, and certainly not in multiples.”

Peggy blinked.

“I will, however, concede to lowering the neckline. Something elegant and youthful. A modified sweetheart, perhaps?”

“Yes,” she said, somewhat mollified. “That sounds much better.”

“Excellent!” he said, turning slightly at the waist to gesture at an assistant holding a notebook. “Now,” he continued, turning back to her. “Is that the hat you plan to wear?”

“Yes.”

“Red? Not cream?”

“Red is my favorite color. I only wear white or cream in blouses.”

“I see. Well, it’s a bold choice, but I think we can make it work if that is your preference.”

“It is.”

He checked the fit of the rest of the dress, pinning here and there to ensure a proper silhouette. They battled again over the length of the sleeves, but Eugenie put a stop to that with a light mention of the uproar that would be produced if Her Royal Highness fainted in the heat. Peggy shot her a glare for the suggestion, but it got Hartnell to shut up about her exposed elbows, of all things, so she didn’t protest any further.

There were more pins and more compromises, and Peggy found herself exhausted by all of it. Fittings with Ana were never this fraught.

By the time Peggy was ready to take the dress off again, she half felt like she was wrestling with a porcupine. It took both Mildred and Eugenie to help her out of it unscathed.

If this was any glimpse into what the rest of her life as a princess might be like, Peggy wasn’t looking forward to it at all.

 

~*~

 

Daniel snuck into church five minutes late for the morning Mass and slipped into the last pew as silently as possible with an aluminum crutch and a false leg. Being a weekday, there were only a few other people scattered throughout the pews, and fortunately no one looked back at him as he sat down.

As always, Daniel felt a vague sense of displacement that he could never pin down. Everything was familiar in the way all Catholic churches were familiar. There was the same coolness to the air, the same expectant stillness in the nave, despite its occupants. The smells were the smells of countless Sundays in his childhood, though someone must have had a recent accident with the orange oil near where he was sitting, because the sweet citrusy scent was on the overwhelming side of pleasant. Even the service was familiar, an echo of so many others he’d attended in the past.

Daniel wondered what an Anglican service would be like. Less Latin, probably, but beyond that, Daniel had no idea what differences the Church of England had instituted since Henry VIII split from Rome.

He looked up at the stained glass windows above the altar, each a riot of color framed by gold, and wondered why he didn’t feel more… anything, really.

The past few days had turned his world upside down. He figured he could be forgiven for concentrating more on that than on the moral quandary Peggy had presented him with, but it didn’t alter the fact that he was more upset that Edith was disappointed in him than he was at the prospect of leaving what he knew behind.

And maybe phrasing it that way could put it into some kind of perspective. For almost two decades he’d been leaving the familiar behind, first when his mom died, then during the war and everything that came after. At this point, he was more used to things changing than staying the same, so why shouldn’t he change religions too?

Quiet movements at the font by the door drew his attention away from his thoughts. He glanced over more out of habit born from surviving dangerous situations than curiosity, and had to stop himself from laughing at what was clearly God’s idea of a joke.

Daniel could count on both hands the number of times he’d been to church since moving to California, and all but two of them had been in the company of Violet, so who else should he see but Violet in her nursing uniform, clearly just off the night shift?

He smiled awkwardly at her double take and scooted a few inches further into the pew in case she wanted to sit next to him as she had the few times she’d dragged him to church in the past. She hesitated, but eventually sat down with all the grace and loveliness that drew him to her in the first place.

When it came time to kneel or stand, Violet matched the pace of her movements to his. At different points in their relationship, he’d appreciated or resented it as an accommodation specifically for him. Now he knew it was simply her nurse’s instinct to care for his missing leg by making sure he didn’t feel obligated to overexert himself for politeness’ sake.

After the service was over, Violet turned to him expectantly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. The “ever again” didn’t even need to be implied. He hadn’t expected to come back to this church again either.

“If I thought you’d be at Mass today I’d have picked a different church,” he said lightly. “I didn’t realize you’d started coming during the week.”

“Off and on the past few months. It’s helped me come to terms with, well, us.” Daniel flinched, hating that he’d hurt her, that she’d needed more of the comfort church provided her. She laid a hand on his arm. “Daniel, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, laying his hand over hers and squeezing briefly before moving her hand off his arm. She straightened in her seat, but otherwise didn’t react to the small rejection. “It’s just been an… interesting week.”

Daniel looked her over. She looked tired, but happy in a way that shone through the current wrinkle in her brow. He wondered if she’d found someone new. “How have you been?” he asked.

“Well enough,” she said. “I’ve taken up horseback riding. I like it.”

“Yeah? I always wanted to ride a horse.”

“I know. You told me when we had that date where you took me to the races. I couldn’t figure out if you were being genuine or trying not to look as sleazy as those guys with the paper bags full of booze.”

Daniel huffed out a laugh. “I’d completely forgotten about that.”

“How’s Peggy?” she asked, an abruptness to her tone that suggested she’d been sitting on the question for a while.

“She’s good,” Daniel said carefully. “She’s in London right now because of a death in the family, but she’s doing well.”

“Are you together? I mean, it doesn’t matter to me if you are, but–”

“We’re engaged,” he said as gently as he could. His stomach twisted at the brief look of pain that flashed across her face, but then she smiled at him.

“Took you long enough. Here I thought you’d be married by now, maybe even have a kid on the way.”

Daniel’s heart sank.

“Yeah. It turns out there are some complications with that.”

“What? You’re in love with another girl?” She flinched and closed her eyes briefly in self-recrimination. “Sorry. That was mean and uncalled for. I’m not actually still angry at you for that.”

“Sounds like you kind of are. And I’m pretty sure it was called for. I was unfair to you and I knew it, even at the time. You were wonderful and I wanted some part of that so much I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing. I’ll always be sorry I hurt you. I hope you know that.”

She shrugged, twisting her lips. “As long as you’ll always be sorry, I guess I can forgive you.”

Daniel laughed. In another universe, one without Peggy’s fire and determination, Violet was exactly the woman he’d want to marry.

“Well, at least you forgive me,” he said. “I haven’t gotten the guts up to go to confession yet.”

“I seem to remember you were never that big on confession anyway.”

“Kinda hard to be in my line of work.”

“Not everything about your life is classified, Daniel.”

Daniel tilted his head in consideration. “No, not everything.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “You work too much. You’re starting to see everything through your secret agent lens.”

“You’ve accused me of that before.”

“Because it’s true,” she said, grinning. “If Peggy didn’t work with you, she’d probably never see you.”

Daniel flinched. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“Why do you think I volunteered to pick up so many extra shifts?”

It hurt worse for the casual way she said it. He knew he’d been a lousy fiancé, but was he really that bad of a boyfriend? Daniel couldn’t remember how many dates he’d missed with Violet in favor of some emergency at work, most of which weren’t as time-sensitive as he’d treated them when they occurred. And she was always showing up at the office and his house with baked goods when they were dating, like the food was just an excuse to see him. Usually after one of their cancelled dates.

Damn.

“It sounds like I’ve got more to apologize to you for than I knew.”

“Hey, you care about your job,” Violet said, nudging him with her elbow. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m guilty of it too.”

“Not to the same extent,” he said. “I feel terrible.”

Violet shrugged, twisting her mouth again. “I can live with that.”

Daniel whipped his head around to stare at her. She held her serious expression for a few seconds before bursting into quiet laughter. The guilty tension in his belly eased a fraction. She was so much more than he had deserved. He hoped whoever she wound up actually marrying appreciated her better than he had.

“I need to go. I have errands to run,” Violet said, gathering her things to stand.

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” Daniel said.

“Thanks. I hope you figure out whatever it was that brought you here.”

“You really think I need to be in some sort of crisis to come to church?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah. Okay, fair enough.”

She smiled, a slightly melancholy look in her eye, and started to leave. Then she stopped and looked back at him.

“Have a nice life, Daniel.”

“You too, Vi. I hope you get everything you want.”

She smiled a little broader, then turned and walked away. Daniel sat back in the pew and sighed.

Had he really been that bad of a partner to Violet when they were together?

In the past twenty-four hours, all the most important women in his life, past and present, had chided him for working too much. So had his dad. And yet he felt like he’d gotten less work done in all the days since those damn men from the Palace showed up on Stark’s doorstep looking for Peggy than he had since he’d been laid up in the hospital during the war.

He liked working. He liked the challenge of solving new cases, the satisfaction of completing a task. Hell, he didn’t even mind filing, so long as everything else was put away properly. It gave his life meaning, purpose. A hell of a lot more meaning than coming to church had ever given him, he thought with a guilty pang as he stared up at the stained glass shining before him. And yet here he was, prepared to give up even that for the woman he loved.

That had to mean something, right? Not just that he was a lovesick fool, but that his willingness to fight for Peggy meant more, was worth sacrificing for, more than anything else in his life.

So why did he still feel guilty about it?

The stiffly-carved Jesus above the altar before him offered no answers.

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 1948 Summer Olympics in London were the first since the 1936 Games in Berlin. They came to be known as the Austerity Games due to rationing and the overall economic climate of a Britain still reeling from the war. Rather than building new venues, most events took place at Wembley Stadium, England's primary football (soccer) stadium, and the Empire Pool at Wembley Park. 59 nations were represented (Germany and Japan were not invited and the USSR chose not to participate), competing in 19 sports.
> 
> Hartnell’s monologue to Peggy about style over fashion is taken, almost unaltered, from something he actually said.
> 
> If any of my Jewish readers out there notice something wonky about anything Daniel’s dad says, will you please let me know how to fix it? I did my best, but I am only a goy.


	6. In which there are Games afoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix, K, and [Paeona](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for beta services, and to [truth_renowned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for brainstorming newspaper articles with me. 
> 
> Thank you also to all of you for sticking with me even as I completely failed to stick to my posting schedule. Hopefully I can get back on track in the coming months.

“You’re certain these supports will be enough to hold it?” Peggy asked the workman her secretary had found for her. “I’d hate to be responsible for damaging the structural integrity of the building.”

“Absolutely certain, Ma’am. It’s the same set up I installed at the Fitzroy Lodge down in Lambeth a couple of years ago.”

“Fitzroy Lodge? Did they finally find a permanent home after the war?”

“You know it?” the man asked, his bushy eyebrows raising in surprise. His young partner, possibly his son if the resemblance between them could be trusted, gaped at her with an open mouth, though, in fairness, he’d been doing that off and on since they arrived.

“I do,” she said simply. Fitzroy Lodge was where she’d taken Steve and the Commandos to train in hand to hand fighting during the war. The Amateur Boxing Club was bombed out of its original building early in the Blitz, but kept going regardless, moving its equipment around from site to site for the duration. Its nomadic existence made for some interesting hunting expeditions in between missions, but Steve appreciated the working class atmosphere, and Peggy appreciated their pluck and commitment.

The older workman took the heavybag from his partner and hung it from the hook waiting for it, chains clinking. He gestured to the set up when he was done. “Give it a go, then, Ma’am. Hard as you like. It won’t be going nowhere.”

Peggy was well familiar with his brand of jovial disbelief and condescension, but indulged him anyway. It was fun to prove men wrong about her.

She slipped her engagement ring off her right hand and onto the chain of her necklace where she couldn’t lose it. Then she wrapped her hands in tape, doing it properly and not letting the curious looks the workmen were shooting at her to rush her. Finally, she kicked off her heels. They were stubby, conservative things compared to some of the ones she was used to wearing in the States, but there was no sense showing off too much.

Peggy settled in front of the heavy bag, bringing her hands up and feeling the familiar challenge of a fight she could easily win settle over her shoulders like a comforting blanket.

The small parlor she’d taken over for a gym echoed with the sharp thuds of her fists hitting canvass. For the first time since stepping off the plane, Peggy felt alive, capable, energized.

It was a stroke of genius on her part to have this thing installed, it truly was.

“Cor! Dad! She’s a brawler!” the younger workman said, speaking for the first time. Peggy tried not to let her lips quirk in amusement.

“You didn’t learn moves like that down Fitzroy Lodge,” the older workman said. “They’d never let you out the door with form like that.”

“It may not be pretty,” Peggy countered, finishing a combination with a brutal uppercut that had felled men twice her size in the past, “but it’s effective.”

Both workmen blinked at her.

“A girl needs to know how to defend herself.”

“Do that thing again. The thing with the jabs,” the younger workman said. His dad tried to reprimand him, but Peggy cut him off by whaling on the heavybag again. She was working up more of a sweat than was proper in the nice day dress she was wearing, but it felt so good to be doing something physical again that she didn’t want to stop. The fact that the workmen were impressed was just icing on the cake.

“What on earth are you doing?” a low, cultured voice called from the doorway. Peggy stopped punching the bag as one of the workmen caught it mid-swing in a jangle of chains. All three of them spun around to see Queen Elizabeth standing on the threshold with wide eyes.

“Your Majesty,” Peggy said, curtseying. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the workmen bow awkwardly.

“I was hoping we could have a little chat,” the Queen said. “If you’re not busy?”

“No, not at all,” Peggy said, hastily unwrapping her hands. She turned to the workmen, both of whom looked shocked to actually be in the same room as the Queen. “Thank you, gentlemen. Someone will be by to take care of you shortly.”

They nodded somewhat vaguely, both of them still looking at the Queen. Peggy took the opportunity to reclaim her shoes and stash the discarded tape from her hands with some of their rubbish from the installation as she joined the Queen as gracefully as possible.

“I was going to suggest a walk in the gardens, but I wasn’t sure if you’d had time to acquire a decent raincoat or a set of wellies,” the Queen said as they left the parlor.

“The coat won’t be a problem,” Peggy said, “and these shoes have seen worse than a bit of rain.” A glance out one of the windows showed her that though the sky was still grey, the rain was no longer coming down in sheets for the moment. She hoped the Olympic track and field athletes competing further west were faring well now that it had stopped.

“Excellent.”

They collected their things from the footmen sent to fetch them and stepped out into the hot, muggy air of the gardens. Peggy instantly missed Los Angeles. The dry heat and blue skies would be heaven compared to this cloying, sticky damp that would no doubt wreck her curls by the time they were done with their walk.

Peggy wondered what the Queen wanted to talk to her about.

“I didn’t know you were a boxer,” the Queen said lightly.

Peggy blinked. “Yes, I find it an invigorating way to start and end a day.”

“You must be dedicated.”

“I don’t know that I’d call myself dedicated, but I do find it fun.” Not to mention useful, though that part of her life was behind her now.

“Will you be watching the boxing matches when they start then?”

“Possibly, though there are so many events to pick from it’s difficult to choose which ones to watch. I’d like to see at least one match from each sport. I never got the chance when I was younger.”

“You’re excited about the Olympics being in town, then?”

“Yes. I always wanted to see them when I was a girl.”

“The Games are a nice change of pace from the past few years. A way to show the country that there are still things worth being optimistic for, to show the world that we’re still strong.”

If Peggy hadn’t known the truth of the matter, she would never be able to tell from looking at the Queen how deep her grief must be.

“Yes, they are,” Peggy said.

The Queen stopped walking and turned to her. “Did you know, you successfully avoided every camera that tried to get a picture of your face during the opening ceremony? Even the newsreels failed to capture much more than your hat or the back of your shoulder.”

Peggy bit the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry, it’s habit.”

“Habit?”

“Yes, I-” Peggy paused, glancing around the path. It was as empty of gardeners as it was when they first stepped onto it, but Peggy had no doubt the shrubbery around the Palace had ears just as the walls inside did. She lowered her voice. “I’m sure you know what I did during the war?”

The Queen blinked. “My husband tells me you were some sort of spy. Not completely unheard of for royalty, though somewhat unorthodox.”

Peggy flashed a smile. “Yes. Well, I was treating the opening ceremony as I would an undercover assignment. Pictures of my face during an assignment would be a liability. I’m afraid I dodged the cameras on instinct.”

“I hadn’t thought of spying like that, though it makes perfect sense, of course.” She reached over to lightly grasp Peggy’s hand. “But my dear, you should remember that you will be doing this sort of thing for the rest of your life. Do you what you must to become accustomed to it, but your role as a part of the Royal Family is a permanent one.” The Queen paused, something ugly aimed at someone else flashing across her face for a moment as she took her hand back. “Unless you wish to refuse it.”

“No!” Peggy exclaimed. “No, I understand all that. I will do my duty to my people.”

“Mm. Yet you think of being royal as a role you will play rather than as a part of who you are.” The Queen shrugged lightly. “I suppose that’s a fair enough assessment, though it won’t make things any easier for you.”

Peggy looked down. “I never wanted this.” She paused before continuing, “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry for the loss of your children. I’d looked forward to seeing how the girls would grow into themselves, into their roles. Margaret was so full of life. And Elizabeth–”

“Yes,” the Queen said, visibly attempting to swallow her grief. She gave Peggy a brave smile. “Well, we’re here now. And you must learn to embrace the public nature of your new role.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” They walked in silence for a few yards. “Perhaps I could meet with the winning athletes, take pictures with them. Extend a sort of royal congratulation. They could take copies of the pictures home with them as a souvenir.” Just the thought of it made Peggy’s stomach turn over. All that publicity, her face splashed everywhere… but then, that’s what she was supposed to be doing; that was part of her job now. She’d have to get used to it.

The Queen tilted her head to one side, considering. “That could work. Yes. We’ll have something arranged. You’re certain you’re willing? You did just say you prefer to avoid getting your picture taken.”

“Trial by fire. I can’t dodge them if the entire point is to get my picture taken.”

The Queen smiled a little brighter this time. “Yes, that might just work. And there will certainly be less pleasant public appearances in the future. It should be good practice for you.”

They continued walking, the gravel of the path under their feet crunching damply as a misty rain started up again.

“Your Majesty,” Peggy said slowly, “how do you do it? The restrictions, the constant public appearances…. How do you keep at it every day and maintain any sense of self?”

“Practice,” the Queen said. “You must remember that being royal is not about you, it’s about something bigger than that. Keep a smile on your face and present yourself to the world with humility and you’re halfway there.”

“Even in times of loss?” Peggy asked gently.

The Queen’s smiled wobbled as she swallowed down her tears. “Especially then. In public, at least. We are members of the British Royal Family. We don’t get tired or bored, and we don’t decide not to do things simply because they are not what we want in a given moment. Grieving is something we do in our spare time at home.”

Peggy dared to reach across to gently grasp the Queen’s hand. She was pleased to receive a light squeeze in return.

“Oh, the gardeners have missed deadheading those dahlias,” the Queen said, detaching herself.

“Deadheading?” Peggy asked.

The Queen smiled. “I’ll show you.”

 

~*~

 

Daniel finished the letter off with the best example of his signature and sealed it in a matching SSR envelope. One by one, he closed the etiquette books scattered around him, setting them in a stack on the edge of his desk. If he’d messed up some form of protocol, it wasn’t for lack of effort trying not to.

He felt like an idiot writing to the King of the United Kingdom. What could the American son of an Italian immigrant and a Jewish clerk possibly have to say that would be of interest to a king? But that king held Daniel’s future happiness in his hands, and so, like some suitor from a period movie, Daniel would send the man a letter asking for permission to take Peggy’s hand in marriage.

He only hoped the King would actually get to see it. From what Peggy said, there were levels of staff for every conceivable task. Peggy’s own mail went through her secretary or her lady in waiting before coming to her, if whichever of them had it thought it was something she should see. Daniel had no doubt whoever was in charge of the King’s mail could have their own motives for not delivering a letter from him. He hoped writing it on SSR letterhead would get it past the regular fan mail, but beyond that–

The phone rang, breaking Daniel from his thoughts.

“Sousa.”

“You seen the papers?” Jack asked in greeting. “‘A Royal welcome at austere Games’, ‘Princess Peggy meets with negro medalists’, ‘British rowers get Royal treatment’. You’d think getting your picture taken was a notable event.”

“It probably is if you’re standing next to the future Queen.”

“At least we know she’s not sitting down on the job. Here’s one you’ll like: ‘Princess Margaret greets four-legged athletes’. That horse is getting awful friendly with your future Mrs. And she does not look happy about it.”

“Did you buy every paper that has any kind of reporting on the Olympics?”

“I thought you’d appreciate me checking up on your girl.”

“I do still talk to her, you know. Besides, what do you think Peggy’d say if she heard you were keeping tabs on her?”

“Danny, I’m hurt. You don’t think she’d appreciate my interest in her life?”

“I think she’d want to know your motives for it.”

Jack sighed, sending a crackle down the line. “After everything we’ve been through together, you still don’t have faith in me?”

“I think you’ll find it’s _because_ of everything we’ve been through together.”

“You’re a class act, you know that? Peggy’s lucky to have you.”

“You just keep collecting headlines for your royal scrapbook, and I’ll actually do the work to marry her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, Peggy’s not the only reason I called. You talk to Phillips lately?”

“No, why?”

“He thinks he’s found a place to run SHIELD out of. Of course, if he hasn’t talked to you about it, maybe I shouldn’t be either.”

“Is it Brooklyn or New Jersey?”

“How the hell– Carter. Of course.”

“She suggested both of them months ago. Apparently the SSR used to run wartime operations out of some facilities that are already there, and she thought we could just repurpose the buildings, save some money to use on actual operations.”

“It’s not a bad idea, but I was under the impression half the reason we’re moving to SHIELD is to get out from under all the corruption we’ve been rooting out in the SSR. Kinda figured that’d include getting out of SSR buildings too.”

“Yeah, I did too, but we’ve got to work with what we have.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“Not as well as if Peggy was actually here to help run it, but we’ve got to do something. The SSR’s out of cash and moral high ground, and there are secrets we’re keeping we can’t risk getting out.”

“You’re talking like you’re planning to be here to help build it up.”

Daniel blinked, taken aback. Did Jack really think Daniel wouldn’t give his all to continue what he started? But then, if things went well with the King, if he actually got to marry the woman of his dreams, he wouldn’t be here to build up SHIELD any more than Peggy would.

“Until we find out otherwise, assume I’m going to be.”

Jack was silent for a moment. “Is that worry or cold feet that’s got you talking?”

“It’s practicality. I’ve worked too damn hard on this to give it up completely. We do this right, we can expand SHIELD offices into Europe within a couple of years and Peggy can step back in where she belongs in at least an advisory basis, and so can I.”

“I know you’d be fine with it, but do you really think Peggy could handle being just an advisor?”

“I’ve been reading up on Constitutional Monarchy; that’s basically what she’s gonna be doing eventually anyway. As Queen, she’s not meant to lean too much into one side of politics or the other, just guide the government in the best direction she can based on what they want to do.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah right. Marge’ll never manage not to get her hands dirty fighting for some cause.”

“You wanna make a bet on that?”

“You that eager to give me your money?”

“Ten bucks says she surprises you.”

“Twenty says she doesn’t.”

“You’re on.”

 

~*~

 

Peggy paused mid-curtsy as the footman shut the door behind her. The King was kicking his leg against his desk with a scowl on his face that was halfway between concerned and annoyed. He glanced up as the door latched.

“Ah, Peggy. Come in,” the King said, straightening.

“Are you all right, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, fine, fine. My leg is, bothering me, that’s all.”

“It's not serious, is it?”

“My staff assure me it’s, likely nothing.”

Peggy paused, concerned. If he was asking his staff about it, it was likely not nothing.

“With all due respect, they’re not medical doctors. It’s better to be safe than sorry in your case, sire. I’ve no interest in taking your place anytime soon.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” the King said. “It is becoming, irksome.”

“How often does your leg bother you like this?”

“Oh, I’m in some, discomfort most of the time. It’s probably just age.”

Peggy wrinkled her brow, her stomach clenching anxiously. “You’re not that old, sire.”

“No? I certainly, feel it some days. The price of being King.”

He smiled at her and gestured for her to take a seat in the chair set up by his desk. She sat once he did, watching him closely for any signs of pain. And there it was, plain as day now that she knew to look for it. Daniel often had the same crease in his brow, the same tightness around his eyes on the days after he’d walked too much or worn his prosthetic too long. And the King looked just as exhausted as he had the last few times she saw him. Even the excitement of the Olympic matches they’d attended together hadn’t done much to ease how unwell he looked.

Uncomfortable with where this line of thought was leading her and unable to do anything about it at the moment, Peggy cast her gaze to the room around them as she settled in her chair. She hadn’t been in the King’s office yet. It looked more homey than the formal rooms of the Palace. He had pictures of his family placed around the room, and an embroidered sampler hanging on the wall. On the desk there was a large red box bearing the royal cypher in gold. The King caught her eye and smiled.

“I’m sure you know what, this is.”

“State papers. Probably cabinet meeting minutes. A summary of all the things the government thinks you should know.”

“Precisely. Do you know, I used to put your correspondence during, the war in here? Lascelles could never, figure out why.”

“He never broke our code?”

The King shot her a boyish smirk. “No.”

Peggy smiled back at him. The code was one she’d invented herself while still at Bletchley. The King had written her one day asking for her opinion of the common people’s mood during the war and she’d done what she could to indulge him. She continued writing him intermittently when she moved on to the the SOE and then the SSR. In fact, she’d only stopped their correspondence after Steve died and the war in Europe was as good as won.

“I hope at least some of what I was able to pass on was useful.”

“It was. Interesting too. Winston had a fit when that, serum worked. He was, quite annoyed when he discovered I, knew before he did. We had denied Erskine’s application, you know. We didn’t have the resources to, take him up on it.”

“Yes. I was originally attached to the SSR to keep an eye on its progress.”

“You balanced your, duties well.”

“Thank you, sire. It was no more than what thousands of others would have done in my place. We were all trying to win the war.”

“Yes. This has been a, challenging decade.”

“It’s getting better, I hope.”

“We’ve been trying, but you’ve, been in America. Things are easier over, there.”

“Things are easier there, but then they had the luxury of not having any of their cities bombed as we did.”

“Yes. I was, worried about the reaction the world would have to our, damaged capital, but the reviews of the, Games have been largely, positive.”

“I think everyone’s excited to move on from the war and to see us move on from it too. The Olympics are helping to do that.”

“Yes, you’ve done, quite well as our ambassador in them.”

Peggy smiled. “I hope so. Dealing with those sorts of crowds isn’t exactly something I’m used to.”

“Yes, it does take, getting used to,” the King said ruefully.

“The people love you.”

He hummed, his gaze going distant. If his eyes weren’t unfocused, Peggy would think he was looking at a picture of his daughters posed together on the bow of a ship that Peggy knew had been taken at the Royal Naval College in Devon early in the war. He pulled a silver cigarette case from his jacket and took one out, offering the case to Peggy. Peggy refused, managing not to wrinkle her nose at remembering the foul taste of the things the one and only time she’d tried smoking.

“There is, talk that our family is irrelevant in this new, postwar world,” the King said, lighting his cigarette. “That maybe Britain should, shed her royal family as so, many others have done.”

“There seems to always be some talk of that,” Peggy said, thinking back to some of her neighbors growing up who spouted republican ideas at her not knowing she was royal herself. When they were both teenagers, she and Michael used to make a game of it. “But I have to wonder how much of a postwar world there would be if you hadn’t been front and center throughout it providing people hope in some of our darkest days. You didn’t flee for safety as you could have done. You stayed here and got on with the important work of winning the war. People respect that. Even in America they respect that.”

“Hmm. And the important work continues to, need doing.” The King’s gaze sharpened, his attention going back to the red box on his desk. He glanced toward the closed doorway, set his cigarette down, then lifted the stack of documents out of the box. “Where do you, suppose they put the more important things?”

“Seeing as you took everything out of the box, I’m willing to wager at the bottom of the stack.”

“Ah!” The King grinned and flipped the stack over. “They think I’m David. That I’ll lose interest before I, get there.”

“Not terribly clever of them,” Peggy said, raising an eyebrow in disgust. She wondered if she’d always have to deal with people who underestimated others out of sheer laziness.

“No, but it, works out for me,” the King said, picking up his cigarette again. “They’ve been doing it that way for, years.”

Peggy resisted getting a closer look at the file now on top. The King opened it, glanced through it, then handed it to her. It appeared to be cabinet minutes in which the men involved were being self congratulatory about the successful nationalization of the gas industry.

“Are these old?” she asked “I thought they passed that Act two weeks ago.”

“I should have you read the, minutes for the weeks after they implemented the NHS.”

“Oh dear.”

“Not as exciting as what’s, happening in America,” the King said wryly.

Peggy grimaced. American news was all aflutter lately with the accusations against Alger Hiss. “I’ve grown wary of trusting accusations of being a communist spy. They’re perfectly plausible, of course - I’ve had my own run-ins with Russian spies since the war - but having been threatened with the accusation myself, I’d want to know more about the people involved.”

“You, were accused of being a, Soviet spy?”

“By a high-ranking official at the FBI who didn’t like how close I was getting to uncovering his own misdeeds.”

The King blinked, suddenly looking older than he had just a moment before. He began massaging at his leg.

Peggy hesitated, but spoke anyway. “Your Majesty, if you don’t mind my asking, how do you know they’re telling you everything you should know?”

“You think the, government is hiding, things from me?”

Peggy hesitated. “I’m aware that when your brother was King, a lot of top secret information was purposely kept out of that box.”

“They, didn’t trust him.”

“No. With good cause, I’m given to understand.”

“With very good cause.” The King sat back and took a pull from his cigarette. “You know, even without, the training, you may just be the most qualified, Monarch this country has had.”

Peggy squashed the urge to fidget.

“Not for a few more decades at least.”

“No, hopefully not. But it does ease my mind, that you already know how, these things work,” he said, gesturing to the box. “Now that you’re here, I hope you might be able to, give me some extra, perspective on certain matters.”

Peggy sat a little straighter in her chair. “Of course.”

He shot her a small grin.

“Let’s see, what else is in this box then, shall we?”

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of historical notes on this one!
> 
> Fitzroy Lodge is an actual boxing club in South London that really was bombed out in the war and rebuilt after it. Apparently, Pippa Middleton is a regular there.
> 
> When Queen Elizabeth was a girl, her mother, Cecilia Cavendish-Bentinck, told her, “If you find somebody or something a bore, the fault lies in you,” which explains rather a lot about her public bearing throughout her life.
> 
> Britain won three gold medals during the 1948 Summer Games, and two of those were for rowing, so it was only natural that Peggy would make enough of a special effort to congratulate them that it ended up in the papers. 
> 
> George VI’s secretaries actually did catch him kicking his leg against his desk to restore circulation after a day’s shooting. By August 1948, the King noted that he was “in discomfort most of the time”, but he didn’t consult a doctor until mid-October, and didn’t see an expert in vascular disease until November 12.
> 
> I actually have no idea what King George VI’s office at Buckingham Palace looked like, but his and the Queen Mother’s rooms at her family home of Glamis Castle were so damn cozy and welcoming when I visited that I had to sneak a little of that into his office decorations.
> 
> The picture of the King’s daughters is a nod to the trip in July 1939 during which Princess Elizabeth is widely regarded to have fallen for Philip, who was attending the Royal Naval College at that time.
> 
> The NHS is the National Health Service, which was implemented in the UK on July 5, 1948 and promised free, comprehensive health care to all regular residents of the UK. I don’t actually know if those in Attlee’s government went on and on about their liberal successes in this period, but it is the kind of thing politicians do. Implementation of the NHS and nationalization of Britain’s major industries (like natural gas) was a revolution in the way British society operated for most of the rest of the 20th century and into today, so it's a fair guess they were probably pretty chuffed.
> 
> Alger Hiss was accused of being a communist spy by a senior editor of Time Magazine, Whittaker Chambers, when Chambers appeared before the House Un-American Activities Committee on August 3, 1948. News of the accusation and following trials would dominate American newspapers for months. Although Chambers admitted to spying himself, Hiss maintained his innocence for the rest of his life.


	7. In which sartorial decisions are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix and [Paeonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia) for betaing, and [truth_renowned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for inspiration and brainstorming.
> 
> And thanks to everyone who is patiently waiting for updates on this as my self-imposed deadlines fly past me long before I'm ready for them.

__

_Balmoral Castle, the Scottish residence of the Royal Family since Queen Victoria purchased the estate for her husband, Prince Albert, in 1852, lies in the heart of Aberdeenshire. It is there the King spends his autumns away from the bustling crowds of London. His Majesty is a great fan of hunting in the surrounding forests and glens. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is often found savoring the tranquility offered by the castle’s gardens._

_This year will be the first the newly-made Princess Margaret will join her cousin up north. The locals are excited by the chance to see her, while the rest of us are eager to learn how the princess will spend her holiday. Will she hunt with the King or take in the many historical sights of the area? Only time will tell how Princess Margaret chooses to spend her time off duty._

 

~*~

 

“Right. I can do this; this is easy. If Howard’s flat-chested floozies can do this it should be no problem for me. Tits forward, bum out, and–”

FLASH

“Gah!”

Peggy blinked the lights out of her eyes. She felt utterly ridiculous and completely unsexy. The right strap of her slip slid off her shoulder; she righted it with an impatient tug. Then she reconsidered and pulled it back down.

Did men find that sexy? She had some vague idea that they did, but Daniel had never toyed with the straps of her undergarments when they made love, just undressed her as fast as she undressed him and got on with it. Clothes were a deficit in that situation.

She fumbled with the camera’s cable release as she flipped to another pinup in the dirty magazine she’d stolen from one of the footmen during the controlled chaos that was preparing for the trip up to Balmoral for the season. The pages were rather the worse for wear after she’d shoved the magazine in her girdle and worn it all the way up to Scotland, but the pictures were still visible. Even if some of them were absolutely confounding.

What woman lifted her legs together like that? It looked uncomfortable as hell. Honestly, was that ridiculous pose meant to be enticing? Maybe men were supposed to imagine prying her legs apart; she was flat on her back after all. Perhaps it was the implied action rather than the pose that was intended to seduce.

Peggy tried it anyway.

The weighty flesh of her breasts pushed up over the top of her bra and headed for her throat, trying to throttle her. She quickly sat up, coughing. Damn, that was worse than she remembered. Certainly not sexy in the least.

She considered the magazine again. Maybe if she let her head dangle from the edge of the bed? Then her hair could hang down too. That was a thing in these sort of pictures, wasn’t it? Even if it wasn’t, Daniel liked playing with her hair. That settled it.

Peggy wormed her way closer to the edge of the bed in an ungainly shuffle, adjusting and readjusting her position until her head was hanging off the bed enough for her breasts not to choke her.

Legs up and pressed together, back arched to make up for how her breasts liked to spread out in this position, and–

FLASH

Peggy blinked, relaxing back onto the bed.

Wait. Was her head even in the frame in that one?

“Damn.”

She rolled out of the bed to check exactly where the camera was aiming, righting her clothes and blinking away the half second of dizziness that resulted from the blood rushing out of her head as she went. Peggy fought back a shiver. The cool air of Scotland was a relief after the humid heat of London, but it also made walking around in nothing but her underwear somewhat unpleasant. Perhaps one of her next shots could feature her dressing gown.

A short knock came at her bedroom door, followed quickly by the sound of it opening and Eugenie’s voice calling out, “Peggy, there was one last thing about the– what on earth are you doing?”

Peggy stood, caught, halfway between the bed and the camera.

The strap of her slip fell off her shoulder again.

“There’s a perfectly rational explanation for this,” she hedged.

“The perfectly rational explanation being that you’re taking naughty pictures of yourself to send to your man across the sea?” Eugenie asked, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in query.

Peggy considered lying.

“Yes,” she said instead.

“No, you’re not,” Eugenie said decisively, closing the door behind her and striding forward.

Peggy’s heart sank.

“If I want to send pictures of myself to my fiancé, no matter my state of dress or undress, that’s my concern,” she said, chin raised stubbornly.

“Fiancé?” Eugenie asked, stopping in her tracks. “You didn’t tell me it was as serious as that.”

Peggy hid a flinch. Eugenie looked as though she’d been slapped, which only served to make Peggy feel even worse. She trusted her lady in waiting now; she’d actually been trying to figure out how to tell her. Blurting it out like this hadn’t been in any of her plans.

Eugenie shook her head. “It is your concern whether or not you take these sort of pictures, but you’re not doing it like this. With this lighting all you’re capturing is a crime scene.”

Eugenie grabbed a pillow off the bed and ripped it from its pillowcase, throwing the pillow across the room and neatly slipping the pillowcase over the top of a standing lamp, which she then leaned across the seat of Peggy’s dressing table chair, aiming the diffused light toward Peggy’s four poster at a forty-five degree angle from the rucked up sheets where Peggy had been kneeling.

She eyed the scene for a moment before disappearing into the suite’s connected bathroom. She emerged carrying a stack of white towels which she then proceeded to drape over various bits of furniture around the bed scene Peggy had set up earlier.

“There,” she said, pleased with the mess she’d made. Peggy supposed the bed was now lit up brighter than it was before. “Much better. Really, Peggy, if you want pictures of yourself for private use, why didn’t you ask for my help in the first place? Photography is my hobby, and you won’t find anyone more discreet.”

Peggy blinked at her, opening her mouth then closing it again like a fish.

“You didn’t think I’d disapprove, did you?” She could have been asking about Daniel or the pictures.

“I thought you might,” Peggy admitted, her stomach twisted in knots.

“Peggy,” Eugenie chided, looking hurt. “I had hoped you knew by now that I’m on your side.”

Peggy rushed to speak before Eugenie could say anything else. “I do know that. Now I know you better, I trust you as much as I trust anyone. It’s just, the King still hasn’t given his permission for me to announce anything yet,” Peggy said. “And it hasn’t come up between us since that first night either, so I let the secret remain a secret.”

Eugenie was quiet as she considered Peggy. “I suppose that explains why you didn’t ask my help with the pictures.”

“No. You might get in trouble should the pictures ever find their way out to the public. If you didn’t take them for me, you could have plausible deniability–”

“Oh, rubbish!” Eugenie exclaimed. “As long as you don’t get completely naked in them, any repercussions from their possible discovery can be easily managed. Besides why should they be discovered? You trust your fiancé with them, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then there’s no sense worrying about it. Now, get on the bed. I can take much better pictures of you from behind the camera than you can with that sad excuse for a cable release,” she said, peering into the viewfinder. She pulled away and shot Peggy a chiding look. “For one thing, they’ll be in focus.”

Peggy grimaced and did as she was told.

“I’m not angry with you,” Eugenie said as she adjusted settings on the camera. “Disappointed, but not angry. I hope you know that. You should be allowed some secrets after all, and allowed the opportunity to divulge them or not as you will.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course. Now, what sort of naughty photos were you going for? Blushing virgin? Vixen? Insatiable succubus? You know your fiancé better than I do.”

Peggy smiled to herself as she kneeled on the bed in something approximating her first pose. Eugenie really was a gem. Together, they relaxed into the photoshoot and had a grand time laughing at the ridiculous poses Peggy attempted. In the end, the pictures that Eugenie developed had more of Peggy in them than any of the first few attempts Peggy made by herself, and had far more artistic merit than anything Peggy had produced in her life.

She wondered what Daniel would think.

 

~*~

 

“This came in the mail for you, Chief,” Rose said as Daniel walked through the door of the Los Angeles SSR a week later. “Expedited delivery from Balmoral Castle. I had to sign for it and everything.”

Daniel ignored her amused smirk as he snatched it out of her hand. Anything from Peggy was something he couldn’t wait to see.

“Are you two using special couriers to send each other love letters now?” Rose teased.

He shot her a glare as he broke the seal and unwound the string holding the flap of the envelope closed. “Rose.”

“What? I think it’s sweet she’s misusing resources to connect with you. She misses you.”

Daniel reached into the envelope and pulled out a stack of pictures with a confused furrow in his brow. What would she be sending him pictures for?

One glance at the top one had him flaming red and shoving the stack back into the envelope.

He had completely forgotten he’d asked her for those. And she’d sent them to the office. Jesus, Peggy.

“What is it?” Rose asked.

Daniel jumped. “Nothing! Nothing important. I’ll just, uh, take these upstairs. You know. Love letters. Not work important.”

“Uh huh.”

“Was there anything else?” he asked out of habit.

“Mr. Jarvis called. I told him you’d call him back as soon as you got in.”

“Right. Jarvis. Got it. I’ll just, go do that. Right now.”

“Uh huh.”

Daniel moved toward the filing room, then stopped and turned around. “Jarvis called? Really?”

“Yes. Said he wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Daniel furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay… He wasn’t more specific than that, was he?”

Rose’s eyes were twinkling. “No.”

It was a bald faced lie, but she was amused by whatever it was, so it probably wasn’t anything to be too concerned about. He shrugged and continued up to his office, clutching the pictures of Peggy with a paranoid grip. They went into his top desk drawer, which he then locked, barely able to stop himself from looking over both shoulders like a guilty schoolboy.

Jesus, Peggy.

Just the glimpse he’d gotten of the top one had been enough to send his blood rushing south. And there was a whole stack of them. He wondered if it made him a bad person that he was already planning how to skip out of work early so he could take them home and spend some quality time going over each one thoroughly.

He ran a hand over his face and tried to calm down. He was at work. There was work to do. He had a case to review about… something.

Jesus, Peggy.

It took Daniel far longer than it should have to remember to call Jarvis back. When he did, Ana answered and directed him to meet Jarvis at an address in the swankier part of downtown. It was important, she said, but wouldn’t tell him why.

Daniel hung up with a muttered oath about wild goose chases, but gamely hauled himself out of his chair and back out of the office. At least whatever it was would hopefully take his mind off those pictures.

Rose smirked at him and waved as he passed back by her desk on the way out.

Just what the hell was Jarvis up to?

Daniel found out when he pulled up outside of the address he’d been given. He cursed under his breath as he slammed the car door shut behind him. Jarvis stood outside the shop door as poised as ever.

“We’re at a tailor’s,” Daniel greeted him flatly.

“Yes.”

“Jarvis, why are we at a tailor’s?”

“Forgive my saying so, Chief Sousa, but your wardrobe will need some freshening up before you join Her Royal Highness abroad. If we get started now, your new things should be ready by the time you fly to London.”

“I’ve got clothes, Jarvis.”

Jarvis ignored him. “After you’re married, you will likely want to have at least some of your suits made bespoke, but for now, I should think a few made-to-measure suits will do the job nicely.”

Daniel did his best not to let his annoyance show.

“I do have a couple nice suits already, Jarvis. My wardrobe isn’t all Hawaiian shirts and sport coats, you know.”

“Yes, I seem to remember a dark blue suit that does wonderful things for your eyes. It is rather… Californian, though. You’d stand out in it in a nightclub in London, nevermind a dinner party at the Palace.”

Daniel sighed. The man had a point. “Okay. So what? I need a tux, maybe one of those tweed suits for less formal occasions… What?”

Jarvis was giving him a pitying look.

“You’ll need at least two or three fine suits for public occasions, a dinner jacket and full evening dress – black tie and white tie, as some say – a morning suit, and a few more casual things, including, yes, a tweed suit for the country. I seem to remember you used to be fond of sweater vests. It would be a good idea to bring the best of those out of storage before you go if you still have them.”

Daniel stared at him, but Jarvis looked completely serious.

“How the hell many times a day do these people change their clothes?” Daniel asked, appalled.

Jarvis pulled a face. “You’d be surprised. Besides, this is nothing to what the women have to do, and even their wardrobes have simplified since the days of shooting parties in the country.”

Daniel closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. He had only the vaguest idea what Jarvis was talking about. Genteel novels and glittering movies about upper crust society had never particularly interested him before now, and the clothing choices of that class had interested him even less, but if what Jarvis was telling him was true, he clearly had research to do. A lot of research.

“Speaking of of which,” Jarvis continued, “you’ll need clothes suitable for hunting as well, but I suspect you can put that off until after you arrive in England.”

“I’m not exactly a hunter.”

“But you’re good with a gun. One of the best shots in the SSR, so I’m told. If nothing else, you might be able to curry favor with your future in-laws at a duck shoot.”

“A duck shoot.”

“Yes. I’ve heard His Majesty is quite keen on it.”

Daniel blinked, trying his best not to hyperventilate. What the hell was he getting himself into?

“Right.”

“Shall we go in?” Jarvis asked, every bit the gracious butler.

Daniel swallowed, but gamely crutched his way into the tailor shop.

What followed was more than two hours of measurements, trying things on, more measurements, and feeling like a particularly useless mannequin. He eyed the pile of chalk-marked suits set aside for him with growing horror. There was no way all these expensive clothes could be necessary.

“Jarvis, I can’t afford all this,” Daniel said in an undertone once the tailor left to fetch yet another suit.

“Compliments of Mr. Stark,” Jarvis said easily.

Daniel gave him a flat look. “This is all Stark’s idea?”

Jarvis suddenly looked awkwardly shifty. “Not as such, no.”

“‘Not as such’?”

“Mr. Stark does not know we are here today, but he did instruct me to offer whatever assistance you may need fitting in with the royal set. Your wardrobe is far too American and, shall we say, casual to fit in with the circles of the upper crust of British society you will encounter at Her Royal Highness’s side. Proper tailoring is an area of which I consider myself to be something of an expert.” This last statement was followed by a somewhat ridiculous shifting of his shoulders and a smoothing of his waistcoat. “Besides, with rationing still in effect, it’s not like you could immediately build an entire wardrobe such as you’d need once you get to London. I mean to give you the building blocks upon which you can create your new life.”

“Right,” Daniel said. He took a steadying breath.

Well, if Stark was paying for it, Daniel had few qualms taking him up on Jarvis’s offer. As far as he was concerned, Stark deserved every annoying thing that happened to him after the mess he got them all into with Leviathan a couple years back. Daniel still had breathing issues sometimes because of that damned Midnight Oil he’d almost choked on, nevermind that he could never fully forgive himself for hitting Peggy like he had while under its influence.

“So how many more of these things do I have to try on?” Daniel asked.

Just then, the tailor returned with a selection of tuxes, his eyes bright with excitement.

Daniel held back a sigh. He had a feeling this was the beginning of a lifetime’s resentment of clothes shopping.

 

~*~

 

Balmoral was simultaneously quieter than London, and more annoyingly crowded with an older generation of upper class society. Or, at least, people who still clung to the older generation’s ways of thinking. Peggy had taken to the near daily hunts for the local roe deer not so much because she enjoyed hunting, but because it got her away from Queen Mary’s insufferable matchmaking back at the castle.

Queen Mary would never admit what she was up to, of course, but what else could it be but matchmaking when Peggy was constantly assaulted with the sight of man after man who had spurned her in her youth only to be interested now that she was suddenly important. Or at least important by their myopic standards of rank and class.

The only people near her age she’d interacted with since coming up north had been baronet’s sons and other members of the Ton, among them, Fred bloody Wells. He had a wife now, a simpering, quiet little thing who had shot Peggy the most ridiculous proud look at one point, as though daring Peggy to be jealous. They seemed well-matched, temperament-wise, so in that Peggy was glad for them, but looking at them together reminded Peggy all too much of what she nearly became. It made her miss Daniel and the life they were building together before all of this with a fierceness that stole her breath away.

Peggy longed for a connection to her true self among the people around her for the first few weeks of her stay. Then a conversation with Eugenie and Mildred about her wardrobe gave her an idea for the perfect opportunity to look up an old friend.

The moment one of the footmen announced his arrival at the castle, Peggy paced the drawing room the staff had set aside for her until he was brought in.

“Hardy!” Peggy greeted warmly. “How are you?”

Hardy Amies was now one of the top names in British fashion design, but when she first met him he was just another new recruit to the SOE. They used to have shooting competitions and decoding races in their limited spare time. She didn’t even realize he was the same Hardy Amies who designed clothes in London until he slyly pulled her aside one evening just before they got their future assignments to alter the fit of the dress she was wearing.

“I’m doing splendidly, Your Royal Highness. And how are you? Finally out of the shadows and into the spotlight?”

“For better or worse,” Peggy said ruefully.

“The nation could hardly ask for a more stunning spy turned princess.”

“That’s not my biggest concern.”

“No? I thought perhaps you called me all the way up here to fit you out in some new suits. The ones you’ve been wearing are fine, but they’re not very British. You’ve been getting flack for that in some sectors of the press.”

“I know,” Peggy said, rolling her eyes, “but with so many restrictions still in place it seemed sensible to stick with some of what I had from America. Which does bring us to why you’re here.” Amies cocked his head. “I need you to make me a ballgown I can actually stand to wear.”

“That sounds like you’ve already rejected at least one.”

“I have. Norman Hartnell wants me in some frothy, bejewelled thing for the Ghillies’ Ball, with gloves up to my armpits and ten pounds of jewelry around my neck. Which would be fine, but…”

“That’s not exactly your style, is it?”

“No.”

“He always did love his sparkle. But I’ll wager there’s nowhere in his design to hide your gun that isn’t covered in layers of tulle and beading.”

Peggy rolled her eyes with a smile. “No there’s not. He might faint if I asked him. We battled enough over my dress for the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I would rather have asked you had there been time for it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Hardy circled her, eyeing her critically. “Do you expect to need a gun, Ma’am?”

“It pays to be prepared. One of your belts saved my life in the California desert last year.”

“Really? Now that does sound like a story I’d like to hear.”

“It’s classified.”

“Of course it is. But it worked?”

“Beautifully.”

“I thought it would. Some of the pencil pushers in the SOE couldn’t see see why such a thing would be necessary for a woman agent. I’m glad to hear you’ve proved them wrong.”

“I was making something of a career out of proving people wrong before all this.”

“Of course you were,” Amies said, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now, about this ballgown, what were you thinking?”

“Something elegant that I can move around in.”

“Well, that certainly narrows it down.”

“I’m used to infiltrating dance halls and nightclubs, not ballrooms. The last ball I attended was the one my parents threw when I came out.”

“It’s not the 1930s anymore; you’ll want something modern. Something eye-catching. White is traditional for the Ghillies’ Ball. Duchesse satin perhaps? You said you didn’t want it encrusted with jewels, so perhaps we could do something interesting with the seaming.”

“It shouldn’t stand out too much, but it shouldn’t hide me either.”

“Peggy, you’re not a spy anymore,” Eugenie said from her place at the side of the room. “People need to be able to spot you even in a crowded room, which means you need something memorable. How else could they brag about having seen you, even if all they saw was the train of your gown?”

“Oh, no trains, please.”

“No trains, no beading, no embroidery,” Amies mused. “No wonder you didn’t want Hartnell to design it.”

“Hardy.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll behave. Let’s get you down to your knickers. I want fresh measurements and I want to take them myself. How would you feel about a strapless gown?”

Peggy considered as she shimmied out of her dress behind the privacy screen. “As long as everything stays where it ought I’m not opposed.”

“I’d corset you within an inch of your life. Your fantastic bosom wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at his phrasing but continued to undress. Mildred took her dress from her with careful hands. She was red as a tomato, poor thing.

“Doesn’t sound like something I could move around in easily,” Peggy said.

“Well, I wouldn’t suggest getting into any brawls, but the boning would allow me to hide a knife or two if you’re genuinely concerned about it.”

“There will be no brawling,” Eugenie said, red lips quirked in amusement. “You’ll be surrounded by the highest in society.”

“That doesn’t rule out brawling, in my experience,” Peggy quipped. She stepped out from behind the privacy screen and held out her arms. “Will I do?”

“You’ve even more lovely shoulders than I remembered,” Amies said, stepping up to her, measuring tape in hand. “How low are you comfortable having your bustline? A little cleavage or none at all?”

“None at all if you can help it, Mr. Amies,” Mildred said before Peggy even opened her mouth. “I’ve been instructed to keep the princess modest.”

“Really?” Peggy asked, exasperated. “Did Lascelles put you up to this?”

“Those are my instructions, Ma’am,” Mildred said, looking uncomfortable. At least she wasn’t blushing anymore. “Mr. Lascelles was quite clear.”

“You’re still wearing red nail varnish,” Eugenie said, a teasing quirk to her mouth. “He doesn’t like that.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! It’s nail varnish. What difference does it make what color it is?”

“Members of the Royal Family aren’t supposed to wear dark nail varnish.”

“This one does.”

Mildred shifted awkwardly. “Mr. Lascelles says–”

“I don’t care what he says. And I don’t care what my stodgy old cousin thought of flappers and modern women twenty years ago. Until the King himself tells me to stop painting my nails red, I will keep painting my nails red.”

It was a silly thing to make a stand about, but Peggy never felt less herself than she did when she glanced down and saw her nails their natural pale pink. It reminded her too much of the woman she desperately tried to mould herself into as a girl, the one who very nearly made the terrible mistake of marrying Fred Wells. The last thing she needed now was to feel as small and uncertain about herself as she did then.

“And the world did not implode,” Amies said with a grin.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Give me a modest bustline; I can compromise on that. Maybe it’ll make those etiquette harpies shut their traps for five minutes. It’s not as though there’s anyone who I’ll want to impress like that on the guest list anyway.”

“I’ll make you look sexy regardless,” Amies said with a wink before moving behind her to resume taking measurements. He paused, unmoving. “You’ve been shot,” he said, shocked.

“What?” Peggy glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring in dismay at her right shoulder. “Oh, yes. At the end of the war. A Hydra goon got me. They’re perfectly healed.”

“You’re a princess and the heir to the throne; you can’t have visible bullet scars,” Amies said. He looked pale.

Peggy sighed, utterly exasperated. “Hardy.”

“If people see them, there will be questions. Do you have any answers the general public won’t fly into a frenzy about?”

Peggy didn’t and he knew it without her having to confirm it for him. It didn’t mean she had to like it.

“I’ll have to cover them,” Amies said.

“Hardy–”

“No, don’t worry. You’ll still be striking and sexy.” Amies slung the tape measure around his neck to take a notebook and pencil out of his front suit pocket. He distractedly took notes while he spoke. “An architectural strap on that side perhaps. Still youthful and en vogue, but modest enough to satisfy those of more conservative tastes with the extra benefit of hiding your past.”

Peggy forced herself to breathe. He was right, of course, she knew he was right. Her scars had been the break Daniel needed to catch her during the Leviathan case. They were too distinctive not to raise questions now. It was yet another thing being dictated to her, though. Do this, don’t do that. Smile here, but not too much. If she didn’t know she had the opportunity to go hunting tomorrow, to blow off some steam with a gun, she might scream.

“Whatever you think is best,” she said.

Hardy smiled kindly at her, understanding in his eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands with me. Now, can you tell me anything of your adventures these past few years that isn’t classified?”

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balmoral Castle really was a gift from Queen Victoria to Prince Albert, who tore down the buildings that were on the estate to construct the castle which can be seen there today. The castle has been passed down to the reigning monarchs ever since Queen Victoria's death, though it is privately owned and maintained by the monarch from the monarch's personal wealth; it does not belong to the Crown nor to the State on behalf of the Crown. The Queen visits from mid-August to mid-October every year, following in the footsteps of her parents, who loved their time at Balmoral as a holiday from many of the usual pressures of royal life. The royal visit to the castle each year is wrapped up by the Ghillies' Ball, to which anyone connected with the estate, from gamekeepers to maids, is invited by the royal family to dress up and have fun.
> 
> Hardy Amies was the English fashion designer who eventually developed the Queen's crisp, understated style of dress. The suits you always see her wearing have evolved from those of his invention during the 20th century. He was also responsible, in part, for the look of utility clothes during WWII, as you can see in this publicity shot promoting the simplified designs here:
> 
> Interestingly, it's his work during WWII that made me think he and Peggy might get on well: he served with the SOE overseeing operations in Belgium, coordinating with local resistance groups and helping to organize various acts of sabotage against the Nazis, including Operation Ratweek, which sought to assassinate Nazi personnel and collaborators to cause confusion in the lead up to D-Day. All the while, he was still designing clothes. I didn't think it was too much of a stretch for some of Peggy's wearable spy gear to come from him.
> 
> King George V had Opinions about fashion. He did not approve of women wearing makeup or nail polish, stopped his wife, Queen Mary, from shortening the hems of her skirts, and quarreled with his sons about the turn ups on their trousers.


End file.
